


can’t put a wolf in a cage

by imnotalady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Arya runs away, F/M, POV Arya Stark, and meets everyone’s favourite blacksmith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotalady/pseuds/imnotalady
Summary: Arya is supposed to marry a Lord soon, but she isn’t having any of it. So, she does the only sensible thing she can think of: she runs away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Actually I have a million things to do but somehow I started writing this... don’t ask me why. Since I don’t have a beta I really don’t know if this is any good, but I already have some of the next chapters planned out so let me know if you’d like to read more.
> 
> Also I kind of changed the ages in this fic a little :))

***

“End of discussion, Arya!”

 

With one last hateful look at her mother she snorted angrily and turned her attention back to the food on her plate, even though she had just lost all appetite. _Stupid, all of them_ , she thought as she stabbed her steak furiously. _Stupid capital, stupid Lords, stupid King and stupid Sansa_. Of course her elder sister had to do everything so much better than her. She always looked perfect, no matter where she went. The hems of her dresses were never dirty from running around like Arya’s were. Her stitches were flawless, her manners excellent and within the few weeks since their arrival in the capital she had perfected the art of talking without really saying anything. Yes, Sansa was without a doubt a proper Lady, everyone at court agreed on that. _Well, she should just marry her stupid jerk prince then and have his stupid babies. But leave me out of it!_

 

“Arya Stark! Would you stop hacking your food to bits and eat like a proper human for Gods’ sake!” She lifted her head and saw her family staring at her. Catelyn looked angry, Ned seemed merely tired. And of course, Sansa stared at her with shock over her unladylike behaviour. _Oh, I’m going to shove that dumb face right up her -_

 

“I mean it!” Her mother glared at her, clearly fuming. “Seriously Arya, you cannot be surprised that we want you to marry. You are old enough now.”

 

“But. I. Don’t. Want. To.”, she snapped back, underlining every word with another _thunk_ of the knife. Her steak was already torn to shreds. _I wasn’t going to eat it, anyway_.

 

Sansa sided with their mother. Obviously. “Mother and father only want what’s best for our family and you know that. It’s not like we’re forcing you to jump off a cliff, we just want you to do your duty!” She sighed dreamily. “ I for one simply can’t wait to marry Joffrey and become queen!”

 

“Well, not everyone is as shallow as you, sweet sister”, Arya said with a fake smile. “Some of us would actually like to do something other than be a baby machine. Have a brain, for example.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “With those manners you won’t even have to worry about finding a husband. You’ll repel every man within a hundred leagues.”

 

“Good.” Arya scoffed and finally stopped hacking her meal, realising that there was no point in even discussing anymore. The decision had been made for her. And she hated them for it.

Before the tears prickling in her eyes could roll down her cheeks, she blinked them away and snorted angrily. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw up in my chambers now.”

Without paying attention to the appalled gasps behind her, she got up and stomped out.

 

***

Later that night, Arya laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling, struggling to fall asleep. It was far too hot for her in the capital. She already missed the steady crackling of the fire in her chambers back home, as well as the fresh northern winds.

_I’m a wolf. Wolfs belong in the North._

Yet for some stupid reason, her pack had decided to move to King’s Landing. Not her whole pack, of course. Robb had stayed in Winterfell as Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon had managed to get out of the voyage, too. And Jon - her favourite - he had left a few days before them to take the black. Arya missed him the most. Only her bastard brother had ever truly seen her for what she was, only he had never tried to make her do something that she didn’t want. _Like forcing me to marry, for example._ Yes, Jon would have understood that she just couldn’t marry some Lord she barely knew only because her parents wanted her to.

_That’s not me. I’m a wolf. And you can’t put a wolf in a cage._

But that is exactly what the Red Keep felt to her now. Like a cage. A pretty one, but a cage nonetheless. Back home, she had always trained with her brothers or ridden around the nearby forests with her direwolf. _My sweet and wild wolf._ Hot tears started to burn in her eyes. She had to leave Nymeria in Winterfell and it had felt like leaving a part of herself behind. _Maybe I did._ She certainly didn’t feel like herself anymore.

 

Here in the south, she wasn’t even allowed to leave the castle or explore the city. Apparently that was considered too dangerous. “There’s plenty to do in the Red Keep”, had Catelyn said, “there’s no need to leave.”

 

And indeed, there was a lot to do in the Keep: Every day, Sansa and other ladies of the court came together for some _ladylike_ activities: stitching, meeting for tea and cake, strolling through the gardens and swooning over knights. The first week or so, Arya had reluctantly participated, but soon she had become sick of it. Sick of all those false smiles, compliments and curtsies. Sick of all the rules she had to follow. Sick of the hairdos, the dresses, the feasts and the people.

Gods how she hated it all.

 

And if that wasn’t bad enough, now her parents had decided to marry her off. 

 

“Not to anyone, of course”, her father had said with a gentle smile, “We’ll choose someone worthy of you. Someone kind. Trust me.”

 

Of course she had seen it coming. She was a woman of ten-and-seven, so naturally the prospect of marriage had to come in sooner or later. And it seemed like the Starks had planned it for a while now. Why else would they have taken her with them to Kings’s Landing when Ned became Hand of the King? Nevertheless, a little part of her had hoped to avoid it for a little longer. Or to be able to choose for herself when she felt like she was ready. Not that she would ever be ready. Just the thought of some slimy southern Lord asking for her hand made her sick to the stomach.

But most importantly it hurt. It really fucking _hurt_ that her parents didn’t even consult her. For the first time in her life Arya felt completely and utterly powerless. _I’ve always made my own decisions and now they took it from me. How could they do that?_ She was not some piece of property to be sold to the highest bidder. She was a person for fucks sake.

_No, not with me. I’ll run away before I let them marry me off. I’ll hack the eyes out of every man who tries to touch me. I’ll -_

 

Arya sat up abruptly. Yes. That was it! She would run away, back to Winterfell. A hundred thoughts started swirling around in her mind. _Maybe I’ll even make it to Castle Black..._

 

But first, she had to come up with a plan and she had to do it soon. Catelyn Stark always got what she wanted and what she wanted now was for her younger daughter to find a husband. _If I stay here she’ll have me betrothed in a few weeks_.

 

With a frustrated grunt, Arya got up and started pacing around her room.

 _I need a horse and I need gold._ The latter was no problem, but it would be very hard to sneak out of the heavily guarded castle on horseback. _It’ll be hard enough for me to get out, let alone with a horse._ No, she needed to buy one in King’s Landing. If she remembered the maps she’d seen at Winterfell well enough, there were some stables at the edge of the city. _Surely I’ll be able to get a horse there._

 

Now very determined she went to open the chest with her belongings. It wouldn’t be possible to pack a lot if she wanted to travel through the capital without arousing suspicion. She would have to get nearly everything she needed along the way. _I won’t have any use for these stupid dresses, anyway._ She had always felt more comfortable in boys clothing. Due to her small and thin figure, people even mistook he for a little boy most of the time. Not that she minded much. _It will be safer to travel like that._ Smiling to herself, she dug out her sword, Needle, which was hidden under some ribbons at the bottom of the trunk. _This will come in quite handy_ , she thought with a smirk as she started swinging it at an invisible attacker. Years of training with Syrio back home in Winterfell had paid off: Arya moved incredibly fast and as swiftly as a cat.

 

She danced deep into the night, until she could barely even keep her eyes open.

Exhausted, but smiling, Arya sank into her pillows. _Tomorrow_ , she thought as she dozed off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets lost and meets one very fat and one very handsome boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind feedback! Here's the second chapter, I hope you like it :)

***

Getting out of the castle without anyone seeing her was easier than she had expected. Since she never actually participated in any of the usual activities at court, no one seemed to really notice her absence. After Arya’s outburst yesterday, her family apparently thought it best to let her cool off for a few days, so they mostly stayed out of her way. Not even Catelyn tried to persuade her into joining them, even though Arya knew it was just a matter of time before she would start introducing her to possible husbands. _Thank the Gods I’m leaving_.

 

Their breakfast together was a relatively quiet and uncomfortable affair. Nobody talked much, except Sansa, who kept on rambling about some new gossip she had heard and what she planned to do that day, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Arya didn’t even pretend to listen to any of it, her head already full of ideas for her escape. Relatively quickly she left, mumbling some excuse and swallowing the guilt which erupted in her at the sad look on her father’s face. It broke her heart a little that she had to leave without even saying goodbye to anyone. _But it’s their fault for forcing this decision upon me. They knew how I’d react._

 

She had told her family countless times she couldn’t be what they wanted her to become. Yet not even her father would listen. Her father, who had always been understanding of her interests. Who had arranged her ‚water dancing‘ lessons until her mother had eventually found out.

Even he had let her down.

With a slight twitch in her gut, she looked away and hurried out of the room.

 

In her chamber, she hastily slipped into her usual breeches and tunic, the old ones from Jon she’d been able to smuggle south. She payed close attention to choosing a less fine material to blend into the crowd easily. Then, she wound her hair into a messy bun, strapped Needle around her waist, grabbed the small bag she had packed the night before and locked her door. _That will buy me some time before they realise what’s going on._

 

Surprisingly, the actual sneaking out was the easiest part. It was almost ridiculous. The goldcloaks didn’t even look twice at the little peasant boy who walked out of the servant’s exit. _If only they knew,_ she thought with a grin, enjoying the peace of being invisible as she stepped out into the city.

 

The capital was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Arya was overwhelmed by all the different people, by the enormous squares and the narrow and crowded alleys. Never in her life had she seen such a big and loud city. She recalled something her father had once told her about King’s Landing: “There are more people living in the capital than the whole North combined.” It wasn’t hard to believe that, as she wandered around and took in the different sights along her way.

Before arriving in the capital, she had studied some maps of King’s Landing. She roughly knew which streets to follow to get out of the city. With that knowledge and the Red Keep almost constantly visible, it was nearly impossible for her to get lost. Yet, after a few hours, she did just that. For a second she’d let the castle out of sight and somehow immediately lost all orientation. Arya knew she went the wrong way when she reached a part of town that looked so very different than the big squares in the richer areas. Here, the smell of shit and sweat and poverty was overwhelming. Her heart ached at the sight of small children, almost starving, begging passerby’s for some food.

 

Still, in all that misery, she saw some small businesses lining the street. A little pub, a brothel (of course) and a smithy. _Maybe I can ask for directions somewhere..._

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a loud rumble made her jump back a few paces, as a wagon nearly ran her over.Unfortunately, she jumped right into someone, knocking them both over with a loud _clang_. And that someone did not sound pleased.

 

“Oi! Watch where you’re going, you midget!” She turned around to a very fat young man staring her down, his face reddened with anger. “Fucking hell! You made me drop the pies!”

“I’m so sorry”, she stuttered, quickly getting up and brushing the dirt off, wanting to leave, but the boy was just getting started. He gestured towards a tray on the floor and some pastries scattered around it. “Y’know how long it takes to bake one of these? Y'know how much trouble I’ll get in now?”

Arya didn’t really know how to answer that. She squatted down, wanting to help him pick them up, but he just slapped her hands. “Don’t you touch them you little shit!” His face went even redder than before. He stood above her, menacingly clenching his hands into fists. It would have intimidated her a little more if she didn’t know she could beat him easily and if he didn’t look like a very red bubble. _Surely he’ll burst any second._

_“_ I ought to teach you a lesson. Once kicked a man to death, y’know. Could do it again if I wanted to. How many kicks would it take to knock a tiny gutter rat like you out?”

Enough was enough. She wasn’t going to take this, not from him. Faster than he could look, she got up and drew Needle and before the fat boy knew it, he found its blade pressed against his throat. “I’d love to see you try.”, she said calmly, fighting back a victorious smile when she saw genuine fear in his eyes.

 

A deep laugh interrupted them. “That’s what you get for pickin’ on the little ones, Hot Pie.” Arya turned around and saw a big, dark-haired figure walking towards them, clearly amused.

Hot Pie, that was his name apparently, seemed to have found his voice again. “I wasn’t pickin’ on him! He ran me over and tried to kill me!” The tall boy chuckled and slapped the him on the back. “You better get back inside. Or do you want to die for a couple pastries?” Hot Pie snorted angrily, then picked up the tray on the floor and stomped away.

Arya relaxed a little, lowered Needle, then eyed the new boy closer. He was about the age of her older brothers, strong and tall built. For some reason, she had to think of Sansa. She would certainly have a lot to say about this young man, about his blue eyes and shaggy black hair. If her sister were here, she would surely find him very handsome. Annoyed, Arya shook the thought off. Sure, he looked good. So? She never had been someone to swoon over boys and she sure as hell wouldn’t start now.

“You didn’t need to help me”, she snapped, maybe a little harsher than necessary. “I can handle myself just fine.”

 

He smirked. “Aye, I saw that. Just didn’t want poor Hot Pie to be sliced into pieces.” His eyes dropped to the sword in her hand and he raised an eyebrow. Without asking, he grabbed Needle and examined it. “That’s a castle-forged blade.", he said. It sounded fascinated.  "Where’d you steal that?”

 

Arya snatched her sword out of his hands. “I didn’t. It was a gift.”

 

The boy didn’t look convinced. Instead, he eyed her from head to toe. For some reason it made her feel uncomfortable. Exposed.

 

“What’s a girl with a blade like that doing in Flea Bottom?”

 

“I’m not a girl”, she shot back defensively.

 

“Yes, you are. It’s obvious.” He chuckled, eying her again. “You think I’m as stupid as that one?”, he added with a nod to Hot Pie, who hurried out of the kitchen, already holding a new tray of pies.

 

Arya gave him an angry look. “Stupider. You’re a stupid bull-headed idiot.”

 

He shrugged. “That’s true. You’re still a girl.”

 

“I am not!”

 

“Yeah? Well pull your cock out, take a piss then.”

 

Arya was speechless, and that didn’t happen often. It also didn’t happen often that she lost an argument. _Fucking hell._ Fuming with anger and a little shocked she glared at the boy, who held her stare, smirking insolently. Her mouth opened and closed, unsure how to counter.

“I - I don’t need to take a piss.” It was a weak answer and she knew she could do better. Normally, anyways. But something about this guy really threw her off. _It’s the stupid smirk on his face. It makes me furious._

Yes, that was it. It certainly had nothing to do with how unbelievably tall and strong he was and how blue his eyes were, that was for sure.

 

Those piercing blue eyes were looking her over once again. Then he reached out his hand. “Name’s Gendry Waters”, he said smilingly. “And you are?”

 

Her heart clenched a little at his name. _He’s a bastard, just like Jon._ Somehow it made her like him a little more. Still, she hesitated a second before taking his hand. For obvious reasons she couldn’t give him her real name. Eying the bastard boy closely, Arya thought of Jon again. Then, an idea crossed her mind. She smiled back.

 

“It’s Arry. Arry Snow.”

 

His hands were rough, but warm, and his grip was firm. Gendry’s smile deepened and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

 

“Suppose us bastard kids ought to stick together.”

 

Arya smirked. “I suppose so.”

 

It certainly couldn’t hurt to make some friends. She would need every support she could get if she wanted to make it to Winterfell. After all, she had a long way ahead of her and winter was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts about this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned finds out and Arya makes some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kind comments, it really means a lot to me.
> 
> This chapter was so much fun to write! Hope you all like it ;)

 

***

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

 

“I just- I- I mean no one’s seen her since this morning, m’lord, and her room is empty. No one knows where she is.”

 

Lord Eddard Stark took a deep breath. _This cannot be happening right now_. As if he didn’t have enough problems already, now his youngest daughter was nowhere to be found.

 

“How could this happen?!” 

 

“I- I- I think she must have, uhm, gotten out, m’lord.”

 

His jaw clenched and it took every bit of strength inside him to not punch that stuttering guard right in the face, right there on the spot. _Fucking goldcloaks._

 

“I figured that. I’m asking you HOW you could let this happen. HOW ON EARTH my daughter left this castle without ANYONE noticing!” He was getting loud and he didn’t give a damn. _Should the whole bloody castle hear it, for all I care_. The soldier in front of him shrunk inside his golden armour, gaze fixed at the floor.

 

“I don’t know, m’lord”, he said quietly.

 

Ned snapped. He grabbed the man by the collar, his hands balled into fists.

“I want my daughter brought back to me by nightfall”, he said slowly, but menacingly.“Send your men to search the whole godsdamn city. And there better not be a _single_ fucking scratch on her or else I’m going to make your life. A. Living. Hell. Do you understand?”

 

The guard nodded, whimpering slightly. Ned let him go and the man hurried away as fast as his legs would take him. _Incompetent,_ he thought,  _the whole lot of them._

 

He just hoped Arya was alright. She was a good fighter, he knew that she could handle herself. But training with Syrio was one thing, running through a city as dangerous as King’s Landing all by herself was another. Gods, he didn’t dare imagine what could have happened to his stubborn little girl. She had always been like this. Arya had never been like her sister, she had always been wild. Unwilling to follow any plans that weren't her own. _The girl’s got the north in her, just like her aunt_. A little more than Ned liked, to be honest. She was... a handful sometimes.

 

Eddard’s eyes widened suddenly. He buried his face in his palms as a terrible realisation hit him:

 

_Shit. I have to tell Cat._

 

***

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

 

Her stomach didn’t seem to agree with that, as it let out loud grumble. Gendry’s eyebrows quirked up and he looked at her amused.“Oh shut up”, she snapped.

 

“Didn’t say anything.”

 

“I can see you laughing.”

 

“I’m not laughing.”

 

“Liar!”

 

Gendry crossed his arms. “You know, you shouldn’t insult people who are bigger than you.”

 

“Then I won’t get to insult anyone.”

 

He smirked. Then his blue eyes met hers again and his face became thoughtful. 

“Seriously though, when was the last time you’ve eaten?”

 

That was a good question. Arya had barely touched her breakfast that morning and her parents’ announcement at dinner yesterday had made her lose all appetite. The last time she had properly eaten was probably breakfast the day before. _Shit. I really should have taken some bread with me before I left._ Gods, was she hungry.

 

Gendry noticed her pause and frowned, his look getting more worried. “That long, huh?”

Then his usual smirk appeared again. “Well”, he announced cockily, ”I just so happen to know the cook here. They say he makes the best pies in the city.” 

 

Arya rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but smile a little as she followed him into the small inn.

Normally, she wouldn’t just follow strange people into pubs, but something about Gendry made her trust him. Made her feel safe. Also, she was starving and might have followed just about anyone at this point if he promised her food.

 

Despite its dirty exterior, the inside of the inn looked quite homely. The banks and tables in the surprisingly big room were made out of dark wood and illuminated by countless candles. Almost every table was full, people were laughing and chatting freely, the atmosphere seemed light and happy, very different than what she expected from the infamous Flea Bottom slums. But the best part was the smell. As soon as she walked in the door, it surrounded her, filled her lungs and made her stomach growl even louder. _Not even the food in the Red Keep smells this good. Gods, what is that?_

Gendry led her to a small table in the back if the inn. There were two boys sitting around it, seemingly in the middle of a heated discussion. The smaller one noticed them and waved.

“Oi, Gendry! How’s the forge going?”

The other turned around, as well. When he recognised her, Hot Pie let out an annoyed groan.

“Ugh, why’d you bring him?”

Gendry slapped him on the shoulder. “Well first of all, _she_ is a girl. Which makes it more embarrassing that she beat you. Also, we could use some food.”

The other boy started laughing. Hot Pie got up, furious and a little embarrassed, and hurried into the kitchen, not without another angry glare at Arya. The smaller boy scooched over so that they could sit down. Gendry started introducing them.

“Lommy, this is Arry. Arry, this is Lommy”, he said, gesturing towards the boy, who gave her a slight nod. Arya smiled politely, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you.”

“So”, Lommy grinned. “You’re the one who nearly pierced our little Hot Pie up earlier? He was sulking about it all afternoon.”

Gendry chuckled at that.

“Though I imagined someone slightly bigger than you”, Lommy added with a smirk.

Arya snorted amused. “Well, I wouldn’t say I pierced him. He pissed me off, so I just, you know, threatened him a little with my sword.” The boys laughed again and Arya laughed with them.

 

“You should have seen her”, Gendry told him, ”poor Hot Pie didn’t know what was happening. Never seen anyone move so fast in my life.” It sounded almost impressed. Arya flushed a little and smiled proudly.

 

It was very easy, talking to them. She quickly learned that Gendry was an apprentice at the nearby smithy, Lommy worked at a dying mill. They both grew up in Flea Bottom. Both were orphans. _That must have been horrible, growing up here, all alone._ Suddenly, she felt very guilty about having lived such a sheltered life. _I bet they’ve never even seen a castle from the inside. And I lived in one._

 

Gendry’s blue eyes fixed her, pulling her out of her thoughts. “What about you? Snow, that’s a northern name, isn’t it?”

 

A small part of her felt a little guilty for using Jon’s surname. Ha had always felt ashamed of it and here she was, using it for her advantage. She swallowed her guilt down and nodded.

 

“Yes, I’m from Winterfell. My uhm, my family moved here not long ago.”

 

“Then why are you here now, all alone?”

 

Arya had never been very good at lying. Especially not with these incredibly blue eyes analysing her. She was just about to half-heartedly invent a story, when a plate dropped in front of her with a loud _clang_. Hot Pie had returned with the pies.

He handed out the other plates, then let himself fall beside them, still frowning at her.

“You have to pay for that, y’know”, he said gruffly. Gendry shot him a killing glance which made him shrink down a little on his seat.

“What? I can’t give out free food.”

 

“Oh yeah? When was the last time Lommy and I had to pay for a meal?”

 

“Well _you’re_ my friends” The fat boy responded, glaring daggers at Arya. She just shrugged.

 

“It’s fine, really. I’ll pay. It was kind of my fault, anyway.“

 

Gendry frowned. “No, you’re not. He’s just being a cunt.” He gave Hot Pie another deadly stare, at which the boy twitched. Then, he sighed.

 

“Fine. It’s on the house”, he said, rolling his eyes.

 

Arya smiled at him. “Thanks. And I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“It’s alright. ‘Guess I could have been a little nicer, too.”

 

With that, they all dug into their food impatiently. Maybe it was the fact that she was practically starving, but Arya swore she had never ate anything better in her life. As she chatted and ate and laughed with her new friends, not once having to worry about her manners or her appearance, Arya felt free for the first time since she came south.

 

She didn’t notice how late it was getting. And she also didn’t notice the goldcloaks patrolling the streets outside.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update this, I had an important exam yesterday and didn’t get to writing at all. The next chapter will come sooner, I promise.
> 
> Thanks for all your kind feedback so far :))

***

 

Time passed more quickly than she thought. Somewhere around ten, Hot Pie brought along a flagon of ale. When she reached for a cup, too, the boys glared at her.

“You sure you want that? Tastes a bit harsh.” Gendry remarked.

 

Hot Pie nodded. “Yeah, girls don’t like ale. I can get you some wine if you want.”

 

Arya raised her brow. “That a serious question? I’m from the North. I‘ll take the bloody ale.” She grabbed a cup and shot a deadly look at Gendry, who laughed a little. Then, without breaking eye contact with the blacksmith, she started chugging the whole cup.

“Oi, that’s pretty strong, you might want to slow-“

 

“Ahhh.” With a loud exhale, Arya slammed the empty cup on the table.

Hot Pie and Lommy’s jaws had dropped and Gendry glared at her, his blue eyes as wide as plates. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave him a cocky smile.

“You were saying?”

 

His eyes flickered from Arya to the cup in her hand, then he seemed to snap out of his shock and cleared his throat. “I uhm- I said that ale’s pretty strong.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You call that strong? Clearly you haven’t tried Winterfell’s finest yet“

 

“Winterfell’s finest? What’s that?”

 

Arya grinned. “Only the best ale in the North. You weak southeners couldn’t even remember your own names after three cups.”

Gendry returned her grin. “Yeah? I think I could handle a lot morethan you. After all, I’m twice your size.”

 

She leaned forward on the table, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Wanna bet?”

 

“Nooo, Arry, that’s really not a good idea”, Hot Pie warned.

 

Lommy agreed.“Yeah, that boy can drink more than a fully grown bull.”

 

Gendry just leaned forward on the table, his face getting closer to hers. She held his stare and raised a brow as if to challenge him. His mouth twitched upwards in a smirk.

“Hot Pie, bring us more ale.”

 

*** 

Arya could drink a lot. She was used to stronger ale than this one, having grown up with the harsh northern brew. But not even her regular drinking sessions with Micah at the stables could prepare her for _this_. Hot Pie was right: competing against Gendry was a bad idea. No matter how many cups they had, Gendry seemed completely unaffected by the alcohol, while Arya felt the usual dizziness creep in much faster than she anticipated. But she would rather bite off her own tongue than admit that.

 

“You ready to give up yet?”

 

“Afraid of losing to a girl?”

 

Gendry raised a brow, then sighed. “Suit yourself.”

 

He filled their cups again as Lommy and Hot Pie cheered.

 

***

“I’m just sayin’ this could be over now. Just admit you’ve had enough!”

 

“And I’m just saying I’m not done!”

 

“You know, I’m not pickin’ you off the street if you pass out.”

 

“Did I ask you to?”

 

Gendry groaned. “Arry, even I’m getting a little drunk now. One more cup and you won’t even be able to walk.”

 

“So you give up.” She smirked.

 

“No, that’s not- I mean I could - ugh!” He groaned again, then raised his hands in a defeated gesture. “Fine. I give up.”

 

 _Good, cause I was this close to throwing up. But I would never tell him that._

Arya cheered and joined the other’s laughter. Lommy slapped her back. “You’re the first one to take on the Bull and still be conscious! Congrats!”

‘The Bull’ crossed his arms and shook his head, still clearly pissed. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

***

Around midnight, the inn slowly started clearing out. Lommy got up, too.

 

“I’m going to head out while I can still walk. Take care, lads. Was really nice meetin’ you, Arry!”

 

“Yeah, you too.”

When he left, Hot Pie sighed and cleared their table. “It’s getting late, I think I’ll better get back to the kitchens. They’re going to need my help cleaning everythin’.” He gave Gendry a pat on the back and got up, a little unsteady on his feet. Then he looked at Arya.

“Well uhm, I guess you’re not that bad.”

 

“You aren’t, either.”

 

He looked thoughtful. “Can’t believe I thought you were a boy. You’re pretty.”

 

She smiled, a little surprised and confused. Flattered. Unsure what to say. “Uh...thanks.”

_That’s the ale speaking. I’m not pretty. I never have been. I’m Arya Horseface._

The fat boy blushed, gave her a nod and walked back to the kitchen.

 

Gendry cleared his throat and she turned her attention back to him. As always, he was grinning. “So...”

 

She raised a brow. “So...?”

 

“Uhm, where do you live? I better bring you home. These streets aren’t that safe, y’know.”

 

 _Shit. Where DO I live?_ Her drunk brain couldn’t come up with an answer. _I could just rent a room somewhere... if I had enough gold._ But rooms in the capital were expensive and she needed the money for the rest of her trip. _I really should have thought this through._

 

Somehow, he was incredibly good at reading her silences. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

 

Arya chewed on her bottom lip uncomfortably. “No, not really. I actually planned to be out of the city by now.”

 

“Where you headed?”

 

She met his eyes. “The North. Home.”

 

He nodded. Then, he cleared his throat again. “Y’know, my room isn’t exactly big, but, er, I have a bed. You could sleep in it for the night, if you want to. I’ll sleep on the floor, of course,” he added with a look at her frown.

  _I don’t really have a choice, do I?_ She sighed and nodded. Gendry smiled and got up, holding out his hand.

 

Her brows furrowed. “I don’t need any help getting up, stupid bull.”

 

Determined, she stood up, but the ground was a lot less stable than she had hoped. _When did it get so crooked?_  Maybe it could also be her legs. Probably both. With a _whoops_ , she lost her balance and stumbled directly into Gendry’s arms. His incredibly strong arms. _Gods how can anyone have that many muscles?_  A very annoying part of her wondered how he would look like without his shirt on. If his stomach was as trained as his arms.  _Seven hells, I definitely drank too much._ Frustrated, she shook away the thought. Gendry grinned down at her.

“No help, huh?”

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

***

 

Gendry lived in a small room almost directly above the smithy.

“Tobho lets me use it as a payment for the work I do”, he explained on their way upstairs.

More specifically, as he practically carried her up the stairs. Arya had protested against being handled like this, but after a few failed attempts at drunkenly climbing the narrow staircase, she had reluctantly agreed. Now, she was a little embarrassed. She would be even more embarrassed if Gendry could hear the thoughts that ran through her mind just then, most of them having to do with his body.

That small and irritating part of her which produced these thoughts felt sad when he let her down as they reached his chamber. Somehow... already missing something. The warmth of his skin. The strength of his arms. _Just shut up about it already!_ , she scolded herself. There wasn’t any time for those thoughts. _Especially not about a stupid bull._

The stupid bull fumbled with his keys and opened the door, revealing a small room with just enough space for a bed and a small table.

 

“So, that’s it. Like I said, it’s not a lot, but enough for me.” He seemed a little insecure.

 

Out of some impulse, she laid a hand on his arm. _Why did I do that?_

And for some reason, she wasn’t able to let go now. He met her eyes, a little surprised by the sudden gesture.

 

“It’s great, really. Thank you, Gendry.” _Why does my voice sound so different?_

 

His voice sounded strange, too. “No problem.”

Even in the dark, his eyes were the clearest shade of blue she had ever seen. Now they were piercing her again, but something flashed over them, something she had never seen before.

Their silence seemed to last hours and Arya couldn’t do anything but stare back at him, heart beating loudly in her chest. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she struggled to think clearly.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than ever.

 

“Hot Pie’s right, y’know. You‘re beautiful.”

 

Arya couldn’t answer. Not that she knew what to say, anyway, but she was somehow physically incapable of speaking. _It’s the shock. No one’s ever called me beautiful before._

Yes, it was the shock and not the look in his eyes or him being so close to her that took her voice.

After another second of silence, with her just gazing at him, lips slightly parted in surprise, Gendry broke the spell. He cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling them both back to reality. Arya felt like someone had dunked her head in cold water. Quickly, she let go off his arm, realising she still held it.

 

“Uh, so you can take the bed and I’ll just sleep here”, he declared, gesturing to a free space on the floor. Arya nodded, stowed  her bag beside the bed and got under the covers. Gendry grabbed a spare blanket and pillow and made himself comfortable on the wooden ground next to her.

 

“Goodnight, Gendry.”

 

“ ‘Night, Arry.”

 

The bed was a little hard compared to the featherbed she used to sleep in, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Somehow, Arya even liked it a little better.That night, she had no trouble at all falling asleep.

 

***

 

Arya woke up from a loud noise. It sounded like the clattering of armour. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes only to find herself in a strange room. She sat up abruptly. _Where the hells am I?_

Suddenly, the door opened and Gendry entered. With a look at her, he crossed his arms and leaned at the wall.

 

“Well well, look who decided to finally wake up.”

 

“Where am I?” Her voice was more like a croak. All of a sudden, she noticed her headache and groaned, throwing herself back into the pillow. The details of last night started coming back to her. “Ugh, I’m never drinking with you again.”

 

He laughed. “I’m surprised you woke up at all, considerin’ the amount you had yesterday.”

She groaned again. Then, she sat back up and her eyes fell to the pillow and blanket in the floor next to her. Suddenly she was feeling very guilty.

“Thanks for letting me sleep here. And I’m really sorry for taking your bed.”

 

He shrugged and smiled. “Don’t mention it. I’ve had worse.”

 

Another noise interrupted them. It sounded like shouting and it was coming from outside. She frowned. “What’s going on out there?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Not much, just the goldcloaks again. Today they’re especially riled up. Been patrolling the streets like crazy since last night.”

 

A knot started forming in her gut. _This can’t be good._ “Did they say why?”

 

“Aye. Apparently, the Hand’s daughter went missing.”

 

_Shit._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya struggles to keep her secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting so late (again), I've just got a lot on my plate right now and it's hard to keep the updates regular.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, anyway! :))

_How could I be so stupid?_

Arya had known that the goldcloaks would be roaming through the city looking for her. It was obvious that she would only have a few hours to leave the city before anyone at the Keep noticed her disappearance. _I should have just gotten on a damn horse and left this shithole of a city._ But somehow she had let herself get distracted. Distracted by the offer of free food and by a smirking bull. _A stupid bull with stupid eyes._

She noticed that those blue eyes were watching her now, analysing her reaction. Unconsciously, she had started chewing on her bottom lip, as she always did when she was nervous. Gendry looked as if he was trying to piece something together, she could practically see his mind working. _Shit, what if he figures out who I am?_ She bet her family had already set up a reward for everyone who could deliver her back to the Keep. _If he finds out, I’ll be back there faster than I can say Needle._

“The hand’s daughter? Huh. That’s...strange.” She tried to keep her voice calm, unbothered, despite the fact that her mind was twirling and a deep feeling of panic started to rise up in her stomach. _I really should have thought of something better to say. What the hells was that?_

But apparently, her distraction worked, at least for now. Gendry seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

 

“Aye. Word on the street is she ran away.” He scoffed. “Although I don’t know what from. Why would a rich girl like her want to run away?”

 

It was strange, hearing him talk about her like that. From an outsider’s perspective. She guessed that’s what it looked like for them: a rich, noble girl who’s got everything they could never even dream of. _But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what it’s like._ Suddenly she felt the need to defend herself.

“Maybe she didn't like the life at court? It must be pretty hard.”

He laughed drily. “Hard? Yeah, I can’t imagine curtseying is harder than bein’ a blacksmith. I mean, Gods, what would I give for one day in a life of a noble? To walk around without having to worry about money or when I’m going to eat next. What would we all here give for that? And she’s just throwing it away.”

Arya chewed on her bottom lip again, feeling very guilty. Indeed, she had taken her life for granted. But she never really liked all the riches she had grown up with. _I always wished I could be a normal girl. One of the smallfolk._ Then she wouldn’t have to worry about eating, sitting and walking ‘like a lady’ or about being practically sold off by her parents to ensure a good political alliance. She would be _free._ _That’s why I did it, Gendry. That’s why I ran. I just couldn’t be who they wanted me to be. Who they needed me to be. I’ll never be that girl._ But she didn’t say that. Instead, she just nodded and kept her thought to herself. Then, she got up and grabbed her belongings.

“You think we’ll still be able to get some breakfast with them outside?”

 

He chuckled. “Breakfast? It’s almost noon, Arry. But I’m sure Hot Pie’s got some bread left.”

 

***

“You know, I can’t keep feedin’ you lot forever. Someday the cook’s going to notice me stealin’ and then they’re going to kick me out.” Hot Pie was visibly annoyed as he handed them a piece of fresh bread. He gave Gendry a deadly stare. “What are you doing here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed be working now?”

Gendry just shrugged and split the bread, handing Arya a half. “Tobho gave me the day off. Finished Ser Meryn’s armour a week earlier and he said I’ve earned myself a break.” He tore himself a piece off and started to eat. Arya did, too. 

With a resined sigh, Hot Pie let himself fall down to the ground next to them. They were leaning on the wall of the inn at one of the back entrances, which was also used for deliveries. The three were hidden behind two big barrels of wine. The fat boy pulled out another small piece of bread for himself.

“They marched in here, earlier”, he said while chewing,”the goldcloaks, I mean.”

 

Gendry popped another chunk of bread into his mouth. “What did they want?”

 

“Searched every room. Asked if we’d seen the Hand’s daughter.”

 

 _Good thing I didn’t get a room here yesterday._

 

Gendry seemed thoughtful. “Did they say what she looked like?”

 

“Not much. Small, brown hair, last seen wearin’ a grey dress.”

 

The blacksmith hummed and continued eating. Next to him, Arya grew more anxious by the second. If the soldiers were searching inns now, it would only be a matter of time before anyone found her. Besides, there was still the possibility of Gendry connecting the dots and handing her over.

 _I need to leave. Right now_. “Gendry?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You know your way around here?”

 

He stopped chewing and frowned, seemingly offended at her question.“Aye, I grew up here. ‘Course I know my way around.”

 

“Do you know where I could get a horse, then?”

 

“What do you need horse for?”

 

She took another bite. “I told you, I want to ride North”, she muffled with a full mouth. _Good thing mother isn’t here to see this. She would drop dead at my table manners._

 

Hot Pie snorted. “Well, good luck getting out of here. The whole city’s practically on lockdown.” Arya nearly choked on her bread. _Fucking hell!_ Gendry chuckled and slapped her on the back.

 

“You alright there?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine”, she managed to croak in between coughs. After a while, her breathing normalised again and she turned to Hot Pie. "What do you mean by lockdown?"

 

He swallowed down another bite before answering. "They've closed off almost all the exits. Nobody except merchants are allowed to leave and even they are being heavily searched. It's crazy."

 _This isn't happening right now._ Arya took deep breath trying to collect her thoughts, which were racing around faster than ever. One question stuck out the most: _What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_

Without noticing it, she had started to chew on her lip again. Gendry saw it, though. His face went serious and he watched her with that pensive expression again. “Arry”, he started, speaking slowly and with something else in his voice. Was it suspicion? She gulped.

 

“Why are you so scared of the goldcloaks?”

 

 _Shit. Think fast!_ But with those eyes staring at her so intensely, it was hard for her brain to come up with a good lie. Not that she was good at lying, anyway. 

 

“I- uhh...” Her face grew red and her hands started sweating. _Think of something, damn it!_

 

Hot Pie cut in. “Did you kill someone?” Gendry turned to him with a confused and annoyed look. “What?”

 

The fat boy shrugged. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Remember when she nearly poked a hole in me?”

 

Arya rolled her eyes, though a little relieved that he broke the tension. “Oh please, if I wanted to kill you, you would be dead now.” She turned to face Gendry, but couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. Instead, she dropped her gaze and fumbled around with her bread. “And no, I didn’t kill anyone, I just...stole some gold.” _Yes, that’s it!_ She was so proud of herself she could have laughed.

 

Gendry frowned. “You stole? From who?”

 

Somehow it was all very easy now. “A soldier. Couple of goldcloaks got drunk in an inn where I stayed and I just... helped myself to a little money from one that passed out.” She took out the small sack of gold she had taken from the Keep and showed it to them. Hot Pie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he grabbed it. “Gods, that’s more than just a little, Arry. Bloody hell!”

She snatched the bag out of Hot Pie’s hand and continued.

“Unfortunately one of his mates saw me sneak away and they nearly caught me. So now I avoid the goldcloaks ‘cause I’m afraid they might recognise me.”

She finally met Gendry’s blue eyes, which were still fixing her. From his look she gathered he still wasn't fully convinced, but at least he didn’t press the topic any further.

 

A shout came from the kitchen and Hot Pie immediately shot up. “Shit, that’s the cook! I need to get back.” Clumsily, he got up from the ground and brushed the dirt off as good as he could. “See you around!”

They waved and watched him hurry back inside. As if both seemed to realise they were alone, it got very quiet. Gendry cleared his throat, then scratched his neck. All of a sudden Arya had to think about what he said to her the evening before. _He thinks I’m beautiful._ Something about it made her feel very...warm. She shook it off. It was nothing, probably the heat in the capital. After all, she was a northern girl and not used to these temperatures.

 

He cleared his throat again, then met her eyes. She saw them sparkle with mischief. “You still want to leave? ‘Cause I might know where to get a horse. Might even manage to smuggle you out of here, if we’re lucky.” 

She smirked and cocked up her brow. “You might?”

He grinned back, then got up and held a hand out for her. Arya rolled her eyes.

 

“I can get up by myself, you know.”

But somehow she let herself be pulled up by him, anyway. Gendry held onto her hand a little longer than necessary, fixing her with his eyes again, before he got closer.

 

“Just trust me, m’lady”, he whispered into her ear. She froze, because of the sudden proximity, the feeling of his breath tickling her neck and the fact that _he just_ _fucking called me m’lady!_

 

He only smirked at her dumbfounded expression. “Told you I’m not as stupid as Hot Pie. Good story, by the way. Very creative.”

 

A hundred different thoughts ran through her head, but she couldn’t formulate any of them. Instead, she only gaped at him. Once again, Gendry fucking Waters had left her speechless. A state which she didn’t like at all.

 

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re not going to fight me on it? Tell me I’m stupid? Or poke me with your sword?”

 

She frowned and shoved him away, finally finding her voice again. “I’m not a lady.”

 

“But you’re a Lord’s daughter, you lived in a castle. That makes you a Lady, doesn’t it?”

 

Arya let out a frustrated groan. “Well - I’m not. So don’t call me that.”

 

He grinned and bowed his head mockingly. “As m’lady commands.” She shot him a deadly look and shoved him again, this time knocking him over. Gendry only laughed.

 

“Well, that was unladylike.”

 

Just as she was about to stomp away, she remembered that she didn't know where to. _Gods_ , _I’m fucked. They’re going to find me and I’ll have to go back._ The thought of returning to the castle was unbearable. _What am I going to do?_

Gendry must have seen the desperate look on her face. As he got up, his expression grew serious. “Don’t worry. They won’t find out, not from me”, he said. It seemed genuine. “I’ll help you. You just have to trust me. Can you do that?”

He held out his hand again, this time it was like a peace offering. Arya looked at his arm, then back at him, unsure what to do. _Alone they’ll get me for sure. With him I’d at least have a chance._

Sighing, she took his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took me extremely long to write, I’m so sorry.  
> But on the plus side, I graduated today (yay me!), so from now on I’m free and I’ll have more time to focus on my writing :)) 
> 
> I hope you like the chapter! :)

Eddard leaned back onto the chair with an exasperated sigh. His racing thoughts made it impossible for him to focus on the books on his table. He groaned. _This damned city..._ King’s Landing had proven itself to be even more complicated and tiresome than expected. The realm he was supposed to be managing was on the verge of bankruptcy, his king showed no interest in ruling at all and everyone at court seemed to follow some ulterior motives. He didn’t dare trust any of them. _Gods_ ,  _I’m not made for these games._

It was hard, keeping up with who backed whom and who conspired against whom. Yet he knew he didn’t even see half of the things that were going on at court. It was hopeless. With another groan, Ned buried his head in his hands and massaged his temples, trying desperately to relieve the headache. The headache that had been plaguing him since the first Small Council meeting, when he had realised just how messed up the situation really was. Which had grown stronger with each passing day in the capital.

Not for the first time he wished he hadn’t accepted Robert’s offer.

_I should have refused. I should have stayed in Winterfell, where I belong. Where my family belongs._

Yet, a little part of him had still hoped to make a difference in the capital. To change things for the better. To help his friend. But since they arrived, Ned had neither unraveled the mysteries surrounding Jon Arryn’s death, nor had he managed to get the realm in order. Instead, he had lost one of his daughters. Arya. _My little wolf._ He didn’t dare imagine what happened to her in the city. Where she was now. Eddard cursed the goldcloaks for their incompetence, for their stupidity, for not finding her and for letting her leave the castle in the first place. He cursed Cat’s impatience, her not waiting for them to tell Arya together like they had planned. But mostly he cursed himself, for allowing this whole situation to unravel like that, for giving into Cat’s wishes and the outside pressure without consulting Arya about it beforehand. Because he had known how she would react. Because he could have figured out a compromise, he knew he could have.

_When she comes back we’ll work it out. Somehow, we’ll find a way that everyone can be happy._

_If_ , a little voice inside him snarled, _if she comes back._

 

A sudden knock ripped him out of his brooding. Confused, he looked out the window; it was pitch dark outside. _Who could it be at this hour?_ Something told him this couldn’t mean good news. Lord Stark cleared his throat.“Who is it?”

The door opened with a loud creak and revealed the Master of Whispers, deepening the uneasy feeling in his gut. Something about the man deeply unnerved Ned, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was incredibly difficult to read. Not that Ned was very good at reading people as it was, but he had trouble placing Varys and figuring out his intentions. He only knew that the spider seemed to know just about everything that was going on in the capital, that he moved like a shadow and that it most likely wasn’t a good sign when he visited in the middle of the night. Sighing, Ned leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Just what I needed today. More bad news._

“Lord Varys”, he greeted the man. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me?”

The Master of Whispers smiled sadly. “I’m afraid your assumptions are correct, Lord Stark.” He slipped into the room, silent as always. “I have sent my little birds throughout the city, but sadly none of them were able to locate your daughter.”

Ned breathed deeply and nodded. He had expected this, as the goldcloaks haven’t had success, either. _That’s Arya. Nobody can find her if she doesn’t want to be found._

He eyed the eunuch. “But that can’t be the reason you came here. There’s something else.”

Varys nodded and looked around the room. Ned watched as he closed the door with caution, then proceeded to close the windows, as well. The spider noticed his look. “If the wrong ears hear what I’m about to tell you, off comes my head”, he told him with a slight smirk. “May I?”He gestured to the chair in from of him.

“Of course.”

As he sat down, Varys let out a deep breath. “There are things you must know. It’s about the king.”

 

***

Gendry wasn’t lying when he said knew his way around the city. With ease he led her through narrow passageways and small side streets, dodging the soldiers patrolling the alleys. Arya would have been impressed if she wasn’t so annoyed. Somewhere along the way she had lost the little sense of direction she had left, so evidently she was forced to rely on him. And the Gods knew Arya didn’t like relying on others.

“Gendry?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to see an old friend of mine. Used to be the best smuggler in Westeros. If anyone can get you out of here, he can.”

She stopped abruptly. _What_?

Arya crossed her arms before her chest, eyes narrowed. “I don’t want help from anyone else, stupid bull. I can’t have help from anyone else. What if he tells the goldcloaks about me?”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “He won’t. Believe me.”

She let out an angry snort. “No. The more people know, the greater the risk. It’s bad enough you’ve found out.“

“Listen, I trust him, he won’t betray us. It’s a good plan! Just follow me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We have to find another way!”

He seemed to have lost his patience. “Arry, there is no other way!”, he snapped, then continued in a slightly lowered voice, controlling his anger to not attract attention. “They’ve blocked almost every exit. I may know this city, but I can’t get you out of it by myself.”

“Well, if you can’t, I’ll just do it myself. I don’t need your help, anyway.” Frustrated and angered, Arya turned to stomp away, but he grabbed her wrist and held her back.

“Oh stop that, you know you need me. Why can’t you just accept that and do what I tell you?”

She gave him a deadly stare before she tried yanking her arm out of his grip. “Because! I’m not going to follow your plan if I think it’s stupid!” Now she was fully shouting, thanks to the stupid bull. _Gods, how can anyone be so irritating?_

She was still struggling to free herself from his grasp, but his hands were too strong. Frustrated, she punched his arm, without success. He didn’t even register it. Instead, Gendry looked around them, nervous. “Arry, stop yelling. People are looking.”

But she didn’t give a shit about the people right now, she was just getting started. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m getting out of here all by myself, just watch!”

“Seriously, stop yelling! You’re going to get us in trouble. Look, there-“

“No I won’t stop yelling. Quit giving me orders!”

 

A shout interrupted their fight. “Oi, you two!”

Gendry cursed and ran his hands through his hair. “Fucking hell. What did I tell you?”

 _Oh, fuck._ She hadn’t even noticed the group of soldiers coming their direction. _That’s what he was so worried about. Shit, I should have stayed quiet_. Arya started chewing on her bottom lip, already feeling guilty for snapping at him. But never in a thousand years would she admit that he was right. Gods how she hated it when he was right.

Nervously she looked at the soldiers, who were coming closer now, and at Gendry, who’s body tensed up. Her grey eyes met blue ones and she knew they were both thinking the same thing: _Run_!

 

She could feel the adrenaline rush through her body as she finally started to move, sprinting after Gendry, who ran surprisingly fast considering his size. They sped down the road, slipping through the crowds which had gathered around the marketplaces, taking sharp turns here and there to lose their persecutors. As they pressed their backs against a building around the corner, she shot a look back and cursed. Their little manoeuvre had bought them some time, yet the goldcloaks were still right on their heels.

“Fuck, Gendry! We need to shake them off!”

He looked down at her, breathing heavily. 

“I think I know a way. Do you trust me?”

This time she didn’t think twice before following him.

 

Gendry led her into a different part of town now, one where the streets were even more cramped than in Flea Bottom. They had just zig-zagged around some busy street merchants, as he took a sharp turn left, where he immediately bolted down the road before turning left again. Even Arya had trouble keeping up with him, letting out a wheeze as she ran after him around the second corner.

“Quick, in here!”

He grabbed her by the waist as he pulled her into a dark, narrow alley and into the nearest house entrance. The surprised shriek she let out was immediately silenced by the hand he pressed over her mouth. She gave him a furious stare.

_How dare you?!_

For a second, she even thought about biting his fingers just to punish him. Gendry held her glance. _Shut up_ , his look told her and for the first time that day, she actually listened to him.Nobody was more surprised about it than herself, but she figured she could still kill him after they made it out of this.

The footsteps behind them were getting closer now. He pressed them further into the shadow, his broad shoulders almost completely concealing her. As the soldiers came near, her whole body froze in panic. She held her breath, her heart beating so loud that she feared they might hear it.

 

But apparently they didn’t.

 

The footsteps passed their hiding spot and when they eventually faded into the night, she allowed herself to breathe again. At least for the moment, they were safe. 

He smiled down on her, also panting heavily, and removed his hand from her mouth.

 

Suddenly, Arya realised how close we were standing. In attempt to hide them from the soldiers, he had pressed her with her back against the wall, one of his arms still on her waist. Their faces were so close together that she could see the little stubble of his beard. Somehow, she had trouble breathing again.

His grin faded slowly as he became aware of their proximity, as well. But instead of letting her go as she had expected, he just looked at her with those piercing blue eyes of his. Those blue eyes which irritated her so much. Which seemed to follow her everywhere. Which always saw directly through her. And which now reminded her a little of Blackwater Bay on a stormy afternoon. She wanted nothing more than to drown in them and - _Whoah. Where did that come from?_

She blinked, trying to get herself to think clearly, but her mind chose to instead focus on his arms, muscular from years working in the forge, and the warm feeling of them wrapped around her. On his broad shoulders and his chest, now so unbearably close to her. On his scent, a mixture of pine, smoke and something entirely his. Something...surprisingly good.

Blue eyes met grey ones again, fixing her with their gaze. She saw something flicker in them, the same thing she’d seen the night before and it made her knees become weak. His eyes fell to her lips and she knew he was thinking the same as her.

_Gods, what are we doing here?_

He cupped her cheek with his hand. The touch sent tingles through her body and she held her breath as his face came even closer and his lips finally met hers.

 

It was nothing like Arya had expected. His lips were soft, so unbelievably soft that she immediately wondered how someone that strong could be so gentle. How in the seven hells his rough hands could feel so good. And _where the fuck_ he had learned to kiss like that. She immediately got jealous of all the girls he’d done it with before.

She let out a slight moan, wanting to feel him even closer. As if he’d sensed her thoughts, the grip on her waist tightened and she felt herself be pressed further into the wall, causing her to gasp a little. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down to her and running her hands through his messy black hair as his second arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer. She forgot that she technically still hated him a little. She forgot that they shouldn’t be doing this, not here, not now. She forgot everything except that she wanted -no needed him- to keep kissing her.

 

Unfortunately, he didn’t. After just a few short minutes, a loud ringing of bells startled them, breaking their kiss as they shot apart.

Confused, surprised and slightly out of breath, they glared at each other. Gendry’s eyes were wide and somehow darker than she’d ever seen them, his lips parted and his hair a complete mess. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what just happened, Arya couldn’t blame him. She didn’t believe it either.

It was as if she was slowly reentering reality: the sounds near them were getting louder and she registered their surroundings more clearly. Quickly, she looked about and gathered that they seemed to be near the Sept of Baelor. _Well that explains the bells._

A hundred different emotions came crashing down on her as she looked at Gendry again: disbelief, shock, confusion, but also an utter annoyance about the bloody bells for breaking up their kiss. Because as much as she didn’t want to, she did enjoy it. A lot.

He looked just as overwhelmed as she was.

“That - I was - I mean- “ He started, blushing, scratching the back of his neck, unable to find the words.

She could only stutter, too. “I - uhm- you... “

“We should just - uhh...”

“Yeah.“

“...you know...keep movin’.”

“Yes. Don’t want the, uhm, goldcloaks to find us.”

“No, we don’t want that. So, uhm, I’ll just...”

“Uh-huh.”

Gendry blinked, then turned around, seemingly still a little disoriented, and continued to lead her through the capital. Arya shook her head, trying to get her emotions in order again.

But as much as she pushed it down, the fuzzy und strangely warm feeling in her gut stayed.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, these updates are taking me longer each time, thank you for being so patient.
> 
> If it makes you feel better, this chapter was so long I had to cut it in half, so the next part is ready and will be uploaded in a few days ;)
> 
> Hope you like it!

“He asked for this? The night before he died?”

“Yes, milord. I didn’t understand it either. A rather ponderous read, if you ask me.”

Ned flipped through the pages. _Ackon Umber, first of his name...blue of eye, brown of hair...died in his fourteenth year..._ It didn’t seem very interesting. And certainly not as if it contained some forbidden information. _But there has to be something Jon was looking for._ He thought back to his conversation with Varys the night before.

 

“ _You’re saying someone is going to kill the king?” Ned couldn’t believe what he just heard._

_The spider nodded. “He faces the same doom as Jon Arryn.”_

_“And which is that?”_

_“The tears of Lys, they call it.” Varys told him with a low voice. “A rare and costly poison. Clear and tasteless, it leaves no trace.”_

_Ned gulped, trying to process the news. For a moment, he just sat there, motionless, then he pushed himself up and started pacing around the chamber. “Who poisoned him?”_

_The Master of Whispers sighed. “Someone who could afford it”, he answered vaguely._

_Pacing didn’t help at all, he concluded, it only made him more confused and restless. Lord Stark sat back in the chair and ran his hands over his face. Nothing seemed to add up. “Jon was Hand for seventeen years. Seventeen good, peaceful years. Why would anyone want to kill him now?”_

_Varys leaned over the table, closer to him and gave him a meaningful look. It almost seemed like he was trying to warn him somehow. Ned remembered what it was about this man what unsettled him so greatly: It wasn’t the things he said, more what he didn’t say. Most of Varys’ messages had to be read between the lines, something Ned wasn’t good at. But this time the spider couldn’t be clearer. The sentence was almost a whisper._

_“He started asking questions.”_

 

Ned turned to the Grand Maester again. The old man was fumbling around with some of the scrolls on the table. “You were with him in his final hours?”

Pycelle sat down on his chair and let out a sigh. “Oh, yes, milord. A tragic day for all of us. It all happened so quickly...”

_Oh spare me your false sentiments._

“Uh-huh. Did he say anything special before he died?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.” The old man seemed thoughtful. “Although there was one sentence he kept repeating over and over: The seed is strong, I think it was.”

Lord Stark frowned. “The seed is strong? What does that mean?”

Pycelle shrugged. “Well, the dying mind is a demented mind, Lord Stark. It could have been just the ramblings of a man in fever. Last words are often overrated, you know.”

Yet Ned couldn’t shake the feeling that Jon had tried to tell them something, that there was something he’d been missing. He left the Maester’s chambers utterly frustrated and with even more questions than before.

Brooding, the Hand of the King climbed up the stairs to his solar. He had the feeling as if he held all the pieces, but just couldn’t find a way to connect them. _What did Jon find out? What information is so dangerous that someone would want to kill him?_ Because Jon Arryn didn’t die of natural causes, that much was certain. Cat’s sister had written it in her raven and even Varys had told him so.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings and ran directly into Littlefinger, causing him to drop the heavy book and the scrolls he held.

Petyr chuckled. “My, Lord Stark, you should really pay attention when you’re carrying a book this big.”

Ned was not in the mood for japes. Mumbling his apologies, he quickly gathered the parchments and was just about to continue making his way up, when Baelish spoke again. This time, he had that cunning and scheming tone again, the one that always made Ned wonder which side he was truly on.

“ _The lineages and history of the great houses of Westeros._ An interesting pick.” Littlefinger eyed him closely. “You know, I seem to recall the last Hand having a similar taste in books.”

Ned raised an eyebrow and got closer. “What do you know about it?”, he asked with a lowered voice.

Baelish shrugged. “Not much, my Lord.” Then he smirked knowingly. “But if you’re tracing back the late Lord Arryn’s steps, you might want to pay a visit to a certain armourer in the city.”

 

***

Arya hated King’s Landing. She hated the castle, the court and the Lords. She hated the smell of shit that seemed to be present nearly everywhere. She hated that it was so crowded, no matter where she went. But maybe the thing she hated most about the capital was the heat. The temperatures were intense, more intense than she’d ever experienced in Winterfell.

It was the late afternoon, maybe around five, but the sun still didn’t let up. At court, there had been a lot of shade, several gardens to cool off in. Down in the city there was no such thing. On the contrary: the crowded and mostly sunny streets of King’s Landing seemed to be making the heat even more unbearable. Being the northern girl she was, Arya felt like she was on fire. All the running from before hadn’t helped the matter. _The kissing hadn’t, either._

She let out a frustrated snort. _Ugh, there it is again._ Just when she thought she had managed to forget about it, her mind went back to the kiss. It was stupid, really. They’d been caught up in the moment, surely it did not mean anything. Kissing, swooning over boys, that was for girls like Sansa, not for the She-wolf of Winterfell. No, Arya didn’t fall in love. She didn’t marry.

_That’s not me._

And yet her face flushed just at the memory of it and she couldn’t help but glance at Gendry, who was walking a few steps ahead of her. Both of them had seemingly decided to not talk about what happened before. Or, more specifically, to not talk at all. After a few stammered half-sentences, an awkward silence had settled over them and for some reason neither could think of anything to break it. Because every time when Arya looked at him and tried to say something to release the tension, images of their kiss flashed through her head. And then all thoughts seemed to be erased from her mind except the sudden urge to kiss him again. But that couldn’t be smart. That couldn’t - shouldn’t - happen. Right?

She took a few deep breaths to clear her mind.

_In...and out..._

Desperately trying to distract herself, she directed her thoughts back to her plan. As much as it bothered her to admit it, Gendry was right. She wouldn’t escape the city without professional aid or with this much goldcloaks present at the city gates. She needed help. Again.

It was typical. Just when she ran away to gain back some control over her life, she needed to rely on others, something she absolutely didn’t like. Worse even, now she had to admit she was wrong. _Gods, this is going to be hard._

Arya sighed. Deeply. Then she turned to Gendry, who had been walking one or two steps ahead of her.

“Fine.”

He stopped and turned around, looking at her confused. He seemed to have been deep in his thoughts, just like her. His eyes studied her and their intense colour made her thoughts swirl again. _Eyes like that should be forbidden._

“Fine, what?”

_His hands on her waist, on the small of her back, every touch setting her skin on fire. His beard slightly scratching her face. The way he touched her cheek. The way he smelled. The way he tasted..._

She took a deep breath. _Gods, woman, get your shit together._

“Fine, we’ll go see that smuggler.”

The hint of a smirk played around his lips, blue eyes sparkling amused. Arya sighed internally. _Oh no, he’s going to be smug about this, isn’t he?_

Gendry folded his arms before his chest. “Is that so?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you said he could help us. And we need help.”

Now he was definitely smirking. “Are you saying I was right?”

Arya groaned. “Not exactly, I’m just saying it might not be...the worst idea”, she gritted through her teeth.

If it was possible, his grin grew even wider. “My, this truly is a memorable day. Arya Stark admitting defeat...” He laughed when that earned him a punch against the arm. Though she didn’t want it, she could feel the smirk growing in her face, too. Her gut felt strangely warm again.

Then, Gendry set off to their right and gestured her to follow him. “Come on, it’s not far from here.”

 

On their short way, he told her about this man they were about to visit. “His name is Davos”, he explained, “Davos Seaworth. Used to be the best smuggler in Westeros, wanted by half the country. He smuggled all sorts of things here from the Free Cities. In the rebellion, he provided Stannis and his men at Storm’s End with onions and other food, after that he served him for a while.”

He held her back with one arm as he peeked around the corner, looking out for soldiers. After deciding it was safe, he carried on. “Now he’s retired here in King’s Landing. Has a pretty nice house close to the harbour.”

Arya nodded. “And how do you know him?”

“He once came to our shop, needed a proper sword for his son. Was the only Lord I ever met who was nice to me, who actually talked to me.” Gendry smiled at the memory. “Told me he was a Flea Bottom bastard, too. I think he likes me ‘cause we’re so similar. Now he comes back every few weeks or so to check up on me, always buying some smaller things I know he doesn’t really need. He even invites me to supper at his house, sometimes.”

Arya smiled, too. “He sounds like a kind man.”

The blacksmith looked at her, his gaze growing soft. “He is, you’ll see.”

 

Not much later, they arrived at a blue house at the end of a small street. Gendry was right, it looked homely and it was definitely a lot bigger than the ones in some of the poorer parts of the city they had passed. If Arya had to live anywhere in this shit-hole of a capital, it would have to be here, the fresh and salty smell of the sea close and the sound of seagulls filling the air.

 

Gendry shot her a look, asking for approval one last time before knocking on the yellow wooden door. Inside, she heard voices, then some ruffling and footsteps coming closer.

With a _criek_ , the door was opened, revealing a small woman, maybe a bit older than Arya’s mother. Her face looked kind, found Arya, small wrinkles around her eyes and mouth indicating she smiled a lot. And truly, at the sight of Gendry the woman did smile warmly and she opened the door even wider.

“Dear boy! It’s good to see you again”, she exclaimed as her face lit up. Then her gaze fell onto Arya and she smirked. “And who‘s your little friend?”

“Lady Marya, this is Arry. ‘M sorry to bother you, but we could really use your help...”

She cut him off. “Nonsense, Gendry, you’re not bothering anyone, we’re always glad to see you. Why don’t you two come in while I get my husband?” She gestured them to enter, then walked off into the house. Soon after a man came down the hallway. He was slightly older than his wife, hair and beard already grey, his face weathered, but smiling. The man hugged Gendry and gave him a pat on the back.

“You look good, lad. Mott’s treatin’ you well?” He had a heavy accent, even more so than a Gendry.

The blacksmith shrugged. “Yeah, he’s alright. How’s the family?”

“Can’t complain. Matthos got work on one of Stannis’ trading ships, y’know. He’s sailing for Braavos in a few days.” Davos smiled proudly, then patted him on the back once more. “So, lad, Marya tells me you need help? What’s going on?”

Gendry stepped aside, making space for Arya, who had been standing behind him. “Davos, this is Arry. Arry, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.”

Arya smiled and held out her hand, suddenly feeling a little shy. “Nice to meet you, Ser Davos.” 

The older man took her hand and smiled back warmly, his eyes twinkling. “Just Davos will do, lass. There’s no need for formalities around here.” Her smile deepened.

Davos eyed both of them. “So, how can I help you two?”

She and Gendry shared a look. He raised an eyebrow enquiringly. _How much do you want to tell him?_

Arya cleared her throat, quickly evaluating her options and settling for the least risky one: to tell him the truth, but as little of it as she could.

“Well, um, I want to leave the city as soon as possible. Can you help me get past the soldiers?”

Now he was assessing her from head to toe, a slight frown on his face. “That depends. Why do ya need to leave so fast?”

“I need to see my family. I have to go home.”

He looked her directly in the eye, his frown deepening. “Home. Where’s that?”

Arya held his gaze. “Some place colder.”

Davos let out a deep chuckle, breaking the tension. “Yeah, would be nice to get out of this bloody heat, wouldn’t it?” He eyed her again, still suspicious, but settled with that short response, as she would not be saying anything else on the matter. Then he nodded.

“Aye, I think I can help ya. With a little luck you’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya makes plans and talks about her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write!
> 
> Hope you like it ;)

Nervously she chewed on her bottom lip.“And you’re sure this will work?”

 

Davos sighed and poured each of them a cup of wine. “I can’t promise you anything, lass. There could always be some goldcloaks patrolling, even down in the tunnels.” He scratched his beard, thinking. “Best we leave in the night, that way our odds of getting through without meetin’ anyone are better. You can both stay here ‘till we leave, we’ve got a spare room.”

 

“And what will you do if something happens? If there’s some guards stopping us?” Gendry didn’t look convinced.

 

“Well”, the old smuggler explained as he sat down in front of them, handing them their cups, “usually most of ‘em would let us pass for a few gold dragons and a half-decent explanation.”

 

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “That doesn’t seem very hard. We could just be a group of smugglers. I can pretend to be a boy, so it doesn’t seem that suspicious.”

 

Gendry snorted. “Nobody would believe you’re a boy.”

 

“They would, too! Hot Pie thought so at first.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “That’s only ‘cause Hot Pie’s an idiot.”

 

“You’re an idiot!”

 

“Oh yeah? And you’re - “

 

“Look”, Davos intervened, shooting warnings looks at the both of them, “we could just come up with another story, alright?” He glanced at Gendry, who just shrugged.

 

“Uhh, let’s see... you two could be a young couple on the run. Very much in love, but your parents don’t approve so you just...took off together to get married outside the city. You-”

 

Arya shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

“Arry! Would you let him finish at least?”

 

“No, I won’t! We’re not a couple, I’m not getting married-“

 

“It’s just pretend!”

 

“-and we’re not in love and I won’t do it!”

 

Gendry looked at her, his eyes widened in surprise. The last part had almost been a scream and so harsh that she was shocked herself.

_Why did this make me so angry? And why is my voice this shrill?_

For a second she saw another emotion flash over Gendry’s face before his expression got hard and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms before his chest. A small part inside her felt a little bad for snapping at him like that, but apologising had never been Arya’s strong suit. So she just mimicked his expression and crossed her arms as well, holding his glare.

 

A slight cough reminded them that there was someone else in the room and they snapped out of their staredown.

Davos eyed them both closely, eyebrows raised, still a little shocked by how easily things had just escalated, then continued speaking.

“Look, you don’t necessarily have to play a couple, that was just an idea. But it can help to make them pity you, just a bit so they want to help. And people can always sympathise with young love, so it’s more likely that a guard will let you pass.”

 

Arya was still fuming. “Well, I bet we can come up with another plan. Maybe one that doesn’t include Gendry?” She shot him a furious look, for some reason still angry at him. She didn’t even know exactly why.

 

The blacksmith frowned. “Excuse me?”

 

“You don’t need to leave the city. So why do you have to come with us?”

 

Davos answered before Gendry could open his mouth. “We could come up with another plan, yes, but something can always go wrong. I’m warning ya, I’m no fighter. Your blacksmith here will have to defend you if anything happens.”

 

She snorted. “He’s not _my_ blacksmith. And I don’t need anybody to defend me.”

 

The sailor raised his brow, then shrugged. “If you say so. Still, a little help could always be useful, even if you don’t need it.”

 

Gendry nodded. “Yeah, I’ll help you. I’m not bad with a hammer, could certainly kill a few gold-hatted shitheads with it.” The corners of his mouth moved upwards slightly, an attempt of a smile. _A peace offering_. Arya met his eyes, only to find herself suddenly hooked in them again.

 

_His hot breath on her neck. Her hands in his hair. The small scars on his hands, making them just a little rough on her skin. The cold wall against her back..._

 

_Stop it!_

 

Her chair screeched over the floor with a loud criek. Furiously, Arya got up and shot a deadly stare at both. Davos looked back and forth between them, a confused frown on his face.

She let out an angry huff.

“Not. My. Blacksmith. And not my protector.”

Still fuming, Arya stomped out of the room.

 

***

For a few moments, neither could say anything, too confused about the dramatic exit they just witnessed. Then Davos let out a small chuckle.

“Well, she’s not a typical highborn, is she?”

 

Gendry sighed. “No, most certainly not.”

 

The old man sipped his wine. “I like her, though. Strong mind, that one.”

 

Gendry snorted. “Strong mind? More like stubborn as shit. She can be a real pain in my ass sometimes.” Then he sighed again. “But yeah, she doesn’t take shit from nobody. And you should see her fight! She nearly put a sword through Hot Pie’s throat yesterday. Never seen anyone move he move that fast.” It sounded genuinely impressed.

 

All of a sudden, everything seemed to click right into place as Davos eyed him closely again. The way his eyes lit up when talking about her, the constant bickering, the strange energy in the room, her reaction earlier.

_Of course. Why didn’t I see it before?_

“You like her, don’t you?”

 

Gendry’s eyes widened. “What? Uh, no, of course not. I mean -“

 

“You do. You truly like her.”

 

The lad swallowed hard, his hands clenching around the cup of wine he’d been holding. “Yeah.”

 

 _Poor boy. This is going to end badly_.

 

“You realise what you got yourself into, lad?”

 

“What- What do you mean?”

 

He sighed. “I mean that you fell in love with the Hand’s daughter and that you’re helping her escape King’s Landing. Lord Stark would have your head for this, I’m sure of it.

 

He could practically see the blood drain out of Gendry’s face as he froze and looked at him in disbelief. The boy sat down his cup and cleared his throat, clearly trying to seem calm.

“Uh, Davos, I told you Arry’s a bastard, just like us. She’s a Snow.”

 

“Right, and I’m a Targaryen. Come on boy, you’re not foolin’ anyone.”

 

Admitting defeat, Gendry let out a sigh. “How did you know?”

 

The sailor chuckled. “For a start, nobody would be in such a hurry to get out of here if they had nothin’ to hide. Also, she looks exactly like her father. I met him with Stannis once after the rebellion, y’know. And next time she’s impersonating a lowborn”, he added with a wink, “you might want to tell her to curse a little more, She’s got to be the politest bastard I’ve ever met. Except when she’s yelling at you, of course.”

 

At his anxious expression, he gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul about it. And I’ll help her escape. But you have to sort out these feelings because I can’t stand any more of your fightin’.”

 

***

Marya had showed her the room in which they would later sleep in, if only for a few hours. It was smaller than her bedroom in the Keep, yet slightly bigger than Gendry’s room in Flea Bottom. But most importantly the bed was bigger, now even wide enough for the two of them. She still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the possibility of them sleeping in one bed together.

Frustrated, annoyed and utterly confused by herself, she sank down to the floor beside the bed, leaning onto the wall.

Why on earth did she react like that? Why did she have to scream at him? Why did the stupid bull infuriate her so much, anyway? And why couldn’t she get that _fucking_ kiss out if her mind?

 

The longer she sat there, alone with her thoughts, the more overwhelmed she was by everything. By her longing for home, for the north, her brothers. By the guilt she felt for leaving her family behind and running away. By the recklessness of her decision, which, admittedly, hadn’t been the best and most thought out. By her conflicting feelings for Gendry.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them, feeling smaller than ever. And also liking herself less than ever.

 

 _Family, duty, honour_. The Tully words, the words of her mother’s house. The words everyone in her family seemed to live by so effortlessly. Had she forsaken them? Had she disappointed them all by leaving? Had she just been too selfish?

Yet again, Arya had never been a Tully. At least not like Sansa and the others. No, she had more winter, more of the north inside her than her other siblings. More wilderness, more of that longing for freedom. She was the only one who looked like her father, like a true Stark. _Apart from Jon, of course_. Jon. Just thinking of him and her family made her want to cry. She sighed deeply.

 

A soft knock on the door tore her out of her depressing thoughts. Gendry’s head popped into the room. “Can we talk?”

 

She nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on her feet.

 

Quietly he closed the door behind him and joined her on the wooden floor. For a minute they sat beside each other in silence, before she could feel him examining her.

“Are you alright?” She didn’t even know his voice could be so soft. For some reason it made her insides feel all fuzzy again. Annoyed by herself, she shook the feeling off. _That’s exactly what I don’t need right now_. She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

She was sure he saw right through her lie, but apparently he chose to not press her any further. Another long silence followed, both of them looking at the floor or fidgeting with the hems of their shirts absentmindedly. Then he spoke again.

“Y’know, I’ve been wonderin’ about this ever since I figured out who you were.”

Arya didn’t look up, although she could feel his eyes on her. “What?”

“Why did you run?”

She finally met his deep blue gaze and couldn’t help but wonder what he must see her like. _Does he think I’m selfish and spoiled?_ Her mind went back to their conversation that morning (Gods, had it been just that morning? It seemed like a lifetime ago) and she doubted he’d see her side. He, who had to work hard for every meal, fight for survival every day. He, who could never even dream of seeing the inside of a castle, let alone growing up in one. Would he truly understand why she needed to escape it all?

Arya swallowed thickly and looked back down onto her hands before answering, fumbling with her shirt. “They uh, they wanted me to marry. Actually, they were forcing me to.”

 

His jaw tensed as he looked down, as well. Then Gendry cleared his throat. “And uh, who were you supposed to marry?”

 

She shrugged. “‘Don’t know. Some Lord, but they hadn’t decided yet. Doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

 

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

 

“‘Cause they’re all the same. I hate those southern lords, all of them. Nothing but slimy, sneaky shitheads who say one thing to your face and another behind your back. Who don’t see me as a person but as a political alliance and a way to carry on their bloodline. A pretty thing without a brain to think for herself.”

 

He stayed silent at that, nodding slightly. Now that she had started to speak, it was hard for her to stop, the words kept flowing out of her.

 

“I hated it at court, you know. The month since we came here has been the worst one of my life. I don’t fit in. The ladies are supposed to always look perfect, speak and act proper and have proper interests like knights and dresses, stitching and swooning. But I don’t like any of that. I like swordfighting, wearing breeches and riding horses.”

 

Frustrated, she pulled at a loose thread on her tunic, ripping it out. “At Winterfell, that wasn’t a problem. Everyone accepted it. My father even hired someone to teach me swordfighting. But here“, she took a deep breath, trying to control the tears which were already prickling her eyes, ”here no one gave a shit about what I like. What I am. Not even my family. They were trying to make me something I’m not and it - it was fucking tearing me apart, Gendry. I felt like I was suffocating. And the marriage thing, that just pushed me over the edge.” She looked up at him and sighed. “That’s why. That’s why I left.”

 

Gendry was still looking at her, concern and pity written all over his face. He wiped away a stray tear which had managed to roll down her cheek.

 

“You don’t belong at court. You belong in the wilderness, on wide fields and forests, the sun shining above you. On the back of a horse, not in a carriage.” His hand rested on her cheek a little longer than necessary, before he drew it back and cleared his throat.

 

“Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. These pricks at court can all go fuck themselves.” He gave her a sad smile.

 

She laughed a little, than met his eyes again. “So you don’t think I’m a bad person for leaving?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I’m thinking you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

 

Arya smiled, suddenly feeling very warm and as if a weight had been lifted off of her. Out of some kind of impulse, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He seemed surprised at first, then hugged her back, holding her even closer. A part of her wished she could stay like this forever, to lose herself in his arms, his scent, his warmth. “Thank you”, she whispered, “for listening. And for helping me.”

 

He chuckled. “It’s alright, really.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Reluctantly she pulled herself out of his arms to look him in the eyes. “I’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass. I’m sorry for earlier. Truly, I don’t know how you put up with me.”

 

A smirk started forming on his face. “It’s always an honour to serve you, m’lady. And don’t worry,I don’t mind a little yellin’.”

 

She smirked back, this time not minding his nickname at all.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can‘t believe it‘s been an entire month since I updated this. I’m so sorry. Hopefully I‘ll manage to keep the chapters more regularly from now on, but I can‘t promise anything, since I’m doing volunteer work abroad right now and just don‘t have time to write every day. But I’m definitely continuing to work on this fic, don’t worry :))
> 
> I hope you like the new chapter! This one’s kind of a filler before the *real* action starts ;)

These days, Ned Stark did not sleep well.

 

His dreams were haunted by the memory of Jon Arryn, that man who had been like a father to him in so many ways, who’s advice had saved his life more times than he could count. The man who always went out of his way to help others, who valued truth and honour beyond everything. A man good to the very core. Who had stumbled upon a terrible secret which eventually ended his life. The man who, in the end, Ned could not save.

 

He dreamed of Robert, his dear friend, of how he’d been like when they were young.Of how he was now, of what being a King had done to him. Of the way he could die and what that would mean for the Realm. For Ned. For his family.

 

But the dreams which unsettled him the most, which terrified him to his very bone and made him wake up in cold sweat were the ones of Arya. His brain was rather creative at coming up with new and horrible things that could have happened to her, of cruel ways she could have died. He saw her sleeping in the streets, dirty and alone and scared. He saw her robbed and stabbed by criminals, left to die in a dark alley, bleeding out in the mud. He saw her kidnapped, shipped to Essos where she would be sold as a slave. He heard her screams, full of pain and terror. He heard her sobs. Saw her eyes, grey like steel, like the fur of her direwolf, now lifeless and staring at the sky without seeing anything.

The worst thing was that he couldn’t do anything to help her. He had no clue where she could be, if she had even left the city, if she was still in Westeros. Wether she was alive or not.

 

To be honest, he didn’t sleep at all these days and it started to show.

The rings under his eyes were getting darker by the day, his face looked paler than ever and he didn't even bother to shave anymore. Nobody saw him anyway, as he spent most of his time brooding in his solar, studying scrolls, numbers and dusty old books.

Today he was flicking through _the Lineages and History of the Great Houses of Westeros_ again, even though he knew that the tenth time reading it wouldn’t miraculously solve the riddle that were Jon Arryn’s last days.

 

“You look like shit, you know that?”

 

King Robert of House Baratheon, the first of his name, let himself fall onto the chair in front of Ned, raking his blue eyes over his best friend with a disapproving frown. He didn’t look very good himself, face reddened by the excessive drinking, seemingly getting fatter by the day. Nothing about the King’s physique resembled the tall, muscular and handsome young man he had once been. Letting out a little sigh, Ned leaned back in his chair and rubbed his aching temples.

 

“Aye, I know.”

 

Robert eyed him, brows furrowed with pity. “No sign of your daughter yet, I take it?” When Ned shook his head, he sighed.

 

“She’s a wild thing, that one. Just like her.” The King’s voice got very quiet, eyes fixed on something in the distance, a small smile playing on his lips. “Even looks like her.”

It was true, Arya was like Lyanna in many ways. They both looked northern, both beautiful in an entirely different way than the ladies in the south. They had wilderness inside of them, a fierceness, a braveness. Both didn’t want to be married off to someone they didn’t love. Both ran away and left their family.

Truth be told, as his youngest daughter got older, there were days where he’d look at her and see his sister’s smile, recognise the way her eyes used to crinkle when she talked about the things she was passionate about. The smile in her face when she rode through the woods around Winterfell, hunting with her brothers instead of being cooped up inside the castle.

Yet, his little wolf had something else inside of her, a great sense of family and belonging. He was sure that she’d return to her pack, different than his dear sister.

 

Eddard shook his head again. “She isn’t Lyanna, Robert”, he said softly.

 

But Robert didn’t seem to hear him. He kept staring into the distance for a few moments, eyes widened. When he snapped out of his daydream, looking him directly in the eye, he leaned on the desk and grabbed his arm. “You have to find her, Ned. Don’t let anyone take her away again, you hear me?”

 

Of course Ned knew what he was talking about.

 

_Only Lyanna wasn’t taken, she left willingly, you fool._

 

But he could never tell him that. Losing Lyanna had changed Robert, it had set loose a rage which Ned had never seen before. His best friend had never been cruel, yet he knew that the King would kill Jon in an instant if he ever found out. If he knew that Lyanna had been in love with another man, that she had a child with another man, he’d go completely mad.

 

The Hand of the King closed his eyes as painful memories flooded his mind.

Images of a Tower, a fight. Then a blood-soaked bed, a babe’s cry. Shaking hands grabbing his, already getting cold. Jon’s dark locks, his eyes, so much like his own. His sister’s voice, almost a whisper.

_Promise me, Ned._

Suddenly, those memories mixed with his recent nightmares. Now it was Arya bleeding out in a tower somewhere in Dorne. It was his little wolf clinging to his hand while life slowly left her.

_Promise me._

Eddard took a deep breath, banning the images to the back of his head. This was different than twenty years ago. Arya wasn’t her aunt. He wouldn’t lose her.

 

 

His voice was more stern as he put a hand on Robert’s arm and repeated his words, more for himself this time. “ _She’s not Lyanna.”_

 

She wasn’t, was she?

 

With visible effort and a loud grunt, Robert pushed himself up. He cleared his throat. “Tell them to double the patrols in the city, maybe she’s still here.” He grabbed Ned’s wine glass and drowned it. “Did you talk to Varys?”

 

The mention of Varys stirred something up in Ned’s mind, but the memories of Lyanna had unsettled him so greatly that he could not remember what he wanted to tell his friend.

_It was something important_.

 

“Uh, yes, I did. He was at the council meeting today. Unlike you.”

 

Robert ignored the comment. “Did he say anything about the Targaryen girl? Has he send out word yet?”

 

Ned frowned. “I still think you’re making a mistake with this. The girl is no threat to us.”

 

“Did he send out the order or not?”

 

Shooting him a last angry look, Ned nodded. “Yes, he did. You’ve condemned an innocent girl to die.”

 

Robert nodded. “Good.”

 

With that, the King made his way to the door.

 

Ned didn’t think he’d ever been so disappointed in his friend. Twenty years had not weakened his hatred against the Targaryens, if anything they had increased his bloodlust. And now a young, pregnant girl hat to die because of a war she wasn’t even responsible for in the first place. Ned wished there was something he could do to help her, but Daenerys was as good as dead now, no matter how much he had protested. _Gods forgive me, I couldn’t stop it._

Ned knew the other council members didn’t like Robert’s decision, either. But none had said anything, as usual everyone schemed behind his back and behind closed doors. _These people make me sick. They’d kill their King in an instant if it meant some sort of profit for them._

 

Suddenly, Ned remembered his conversation with Varys. Fear flowed through him, cold as ice.

_I have to warn him_.

 

“Robert!” Quickly Ned got up from his chair and ran after him, almost tripping over his feet in his hurry.

 

A hand already on the door handle, the King turned around. “What?”

 

Now that he looked at him, Ned realised that he hadn’t thought about what to say. How much he should say. He cleared his throat. “Just...be careful. Have someone drink from every cup of wine before you do.”

 

Robert let go of the handle and looked at him, confused. “Why?” He furrowed his brows, realising his friend was being serious. “What are you on about, Ned?”

 

_He has to know._

 

Ned took a deep breath and moved closer to Robert, his voice low.

 

“Someone wants you dead.”

 

***

“So.” Arya shook out the fresh linen sheets they had gotten from Marya. “When will we leave?”

 

Gendry took a pillow and fluffed it. “Davos said at sunrise. Apparently that’s when the least guards are patrolling.”

 

She nodded, still fumbling around with the sheets.

 

“Still, there might be some of them down there. Better take that sword of yours, in case we need to fight.”

 

“Needle”, she said, turning to him.

 

He frowned. “What?”

 

“The sword’s name. It’s Needle.”

 

“You _named_ your sword?”

 

“Sure”, she shrugged. “Lots of people name their swords.”

 

“Lots of highborn pricks”, he scoffed. Still frowning, he looked at the bed. “What are you doing with the sheets there?”

 

She glanced down at the very poorly made bed, then back at him, blushing. _This is not how it’s supposed to be done, then._

 

His brow quirked up. “Have you ever made a bed, m’lady?”

 

“Of course I’ve made a bed, idiot. Just we never have this much sheets. In Winterfell we usually sleep on furs.” Angrily she gestured to the linen. “What do I do with this here?“

 

Gendry wasn’t even trying to hide the smug grin on his face as he took the sheets himself. “Here, let me.” With a quick movement he shook up the linens, splayed them across the bed and tucked the excess fabric under the mattress. Surprisingly, it actually looked quite neat.

 

“Thanks”, she gritted through her teeth.

 

He bowed mockingly. “At your service, m’lady.”

 

She rolled her eyes and hit him with her pillow. “Don’t call me that, stupid.”

 

Gendry shrugged. “You’re the one who can’t make a bed, m’lady.”

 

Arya gasped. “I can, too!”

 

He let out a mocking hum which earned him a deadly stare. Snickering, he grabbed the second blanket and pillow and laid them on the floor.

 

“Shut up.” She let out an angry snort. Her gaze went to the floor and she frowned. “What are you doing there, anyway?”

 

Gendry looked up and raised an eyebrow, irritated. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He gestured to the floor. “I’m making my bed.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, stupid. Get in here.” She patted to the empty space next to her.

 

His eyes widened. “No, I can’t do that.”

 

“Course you can. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

 

“That’s not the point. It’s just...” He stopped and scratched the back of his neck, seemingly searching of a way to phrase it. 

 

She raised her brows, challenging him. “Just what?“

 

His mouth opened and closed again, then he shook his head. “Nothin’.” He crouched back on the floor and started patting his pillow to straighten it out.

 

But Arya wasn’t finished with this argument. “No, tell me, what is it? Do I snore? Do you not like me? Why don’t you want to sleep in the same bed as me?”

 

He sighed. “No, ‘course I like you. I just...It wouldn’t be proper.”

 

“Proper? Are you serious?” Arya stared at him, utterly confused and angry. “Do you think I care about what’s proper and what isn’t? Have you _met_ me?”

 

Letting out a frustrated snort, he turned around. “I know you don’t care about that, Arry. I know you’re different than them. Still...better I sleep here.”

 

She rolled her eyes. Why was he thinking about propriety now of all times? What in the seven hells was he even worried about? It didn’t make sense. They would only be sleeping next to each other, both completely dressed. No danger for her to be _spoiled_ , as her septa always said. No one would feel the need to do anything.

She guessed it’d be different if they were in love. Then her heart would flatter at the thought of sharing a bed with Gendry. The hair on her skin would stand up every time he got close to her. She would want to touch him, to feel his kisses mark her neck, her collarbone, slowly sinking lower...

She would wonder if the rest of him was as muscled as his arms. What it would be like to run her hands over his back. What he would whisper in her ear with that damned accent of his. What it would feel like to _be with him_. Yes, if they were in love, her honour would be in danger. 

 

Luckily they weren’t. In love.

_Arya_ wasn’t in love.

Not even a little bit.

 

Irritated, she fluffed her pillow and lied down on it. “Gods, Gendry, it’s just sleeping. Shut up and get in here, I’m not asking a third time.”

 

“But-“

 

“Fine. Sleep on the floor”, she snapped, “You can sleep on the bloody dirt in Flea bottom for all I care.” With an angry huff she turned her back to him and closed her eyes. _Stupid bull_.

 

For a second the room was silent, then there was some frustrated mumbling behind her and some rustling. A pillow landed on the bed beside hers, followed by a blanket and a very annoyed blacksmith. She couldn’t stop the winning grin creeping on her face as she heard him grumble to himself while getting under the sheets and blowing out the candle on the nightstand.

“Fucking highborns.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I‘m so sorry for the wait. Again. Life‘s just a little crazy right now. 
> 
> This chapter got really out of hand lol I just kept adding and adding until I noticed that it seemed kind of all over the place. So...I split it up, which means that the next chapter is finished and will be up by tomorrow! I promise. 
> 
> On another note: we finally get some action! 
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy it ;))

***

 

_“You have got to leave him wanting more. That’s the secret, really. It makes you desirable.”_

_Arya rolled her eyes. How did the conversation even get here?_

_It had started with a quick talk about her day at court, then some comments on the new dress the Queen was wearing. And before she knew it, Arya found herself sitting next to Sansa in her chambers, listening to her ramblings about knights and how to make them want you._

_She wanted to tell her sister that she didn’t care if she was desirable to men, that she didn’t want to marry at all. That she didn’t want to know the secret to flirting. That she hadn’t even asked about it in the first place._

_Yet they had been getting along strangely well this week and she didn’t want to risk causing another fight, not with her mother still mad about the bruises she’d gotten while practicing with Needle a few days ago. So it was better to just let Sansa talk about boys. Sighing, Arya bit her tongue and feigned interest. An act she had perfected in the seventeen years she had known her sister._

_“So, you bat your lashes and speak softly and then, just when you have him hooked, you leave and turn your attention elsewhere.” Sansa told her, eyes widened with excitement. “Margaery taught me that.”_

_Arya hummed approvingly, in her mind already going through the ways to end this conversation as quickly as possible. “Uh-uh“._

_“And flip your hair. It makes them go crazy.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“It’s also helpful to bring attention to your lips. That makes them think about kissing you. Believe me, it works.”_

_“Oh.” She wasn’t even really listening anymore, instead she went through all the places in the castle where nobody would disturb her. Maybe she could skip dinner and sneak off to the Godswood. Before that she should get some snacks from the kitchens, surely she could manage to steal something._

_Suddenly Arya frowned, processing what her sister just said. She turned to face her. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you already kissed someone?”_

_Sansa let out a small giggle and blushed._

_And even though she hated girl talk more than she hated Joffrey, and even though this was completely unlike her, Arya gasped. “Oh my Gods, you did! Who was it? Joffrey?”_

_Smirking, her sister got up and walked towards the door. “A lady never tells.”_

_With a wink, she left the room._

***

 

She was in Winterfell again. Back when everything was good, when her pack hadn’t separated, when they didn’t leave for the capital, back when she was free.

 

She ran down the corridor, her loose hair flying behind her, carried by a fresh breeze. Even though she was barefoot she didn’t feel cold. It was a beautiful, mild summer day and the stones beneath her were warmed by the hot springs which ran underneath the castle.

In the distance she could hear the voices of her family. Her father, her mother. Jon’s laughter, Robb shouting something. Bran and Rickon running around and shrieking playfully. Even Sansa was giggling. And Arya’s wolf, Nymeria, ran beside her.

 

Laughing, she picked up her pace. _I’m coming_ , she yelled, _I’m coming home. Did you miss me?_ Happy tears streamed down her face. Only one. Only one more corridor separated her from her family now. She ran around the corner, urging Nymeria on. _Come on, girl. We’re going to see the pack again. Come on._ Panting, she arrived at the heavy wooden door. A smile broke out on her face as she recognised the wolf engraved on the handle. _I’m home. I really am home._ Next to her Nymeria was barking happily.

With a deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The first thing she noticed was the sunlight. It was bright, so bright she had to shield her eyes. The second thing she noticed was the heat. A very unusual heat for Winterfell, even for this time of the year. As her eyes got slowly accustomed to the sun, she realised that her surroundings looked different, as well. _This isn’t Winterfell. This is King’s Landing._

Something was off. The hair on her neck rose and the wolf behind her started to snarl.

_Jon_? She asked, _Father_? No one answered. _Where are you?_

There was only silence. Horrified, she realised that not even Nymeria was making any sounds now. Panic started to rise in her stomach and she turned around, only to find her direwolf gone, as well as the door she’d come from. Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands automatically started patting her side, searching for Needle. It was gone, too.

 

Then, a sound filled the air. Another snarl, but different this time. Deeper. More menacing. And it was coming from behind her. Breathing heavily and without any way to defend herself, she turned to the growl.

 

An enormous dog was standing only a few inches in front of her, baring its teeth. No, dog wasn’t the right word for this _thing_. It was bigger than any dog she’d ever seen, bigger even than her wolf. The creature was black, the right part of its face scarred by horrible marks. Burn marks, she noticed. It was trembling with aggression, saliva dripping out of its mouth onto the dusty ground. Terrified, Arya watched as the creature took a step towards her, its gigantic paws making the ground shake. _This is how I die._ She took one last shaky breath and closed her eyes, thinking of home. The creature growled again and she felt its hot breath on her face, then it opened its mouth to devour her and -

 

Heavily panting, Arya opened her eyes and looked around.

It was the middle of the night and she was in Davos’ house. Safe. There was no monster. Relief flooded through her and she closed her eyes again, nestling her head deeper into the pillow. Calmed by the warmth and Gendry’s soft but regular snores beside her, her breathing started to normalise again. She smiled to herself. _Of course he snores, my stupid bull._ Her eyes shot open. Not _her_ bull. _A_ bull. _Some_ bull. Not hers. Gods, why was she even thinking that? Probably from the exhaustion. She was just very very tired. Yes. She needed to sleep.

Frowning and shaking her head, she closed her eyes again, letting out an angry huff.

 

It took her a good hour to fall back asleep again, her dreams no longer haunted by dogs but by piercing blue eyes.

 

***

The next time she woke up, she felt very comfortable. No, strike that. She felt extremely comfortable. Maybe even the most comfortable she had ever been in her life. _Gods, this pillow is great_. Still half asleep, she nestled her head deeper into the cushion, only to find that it wasn’t a normal pillow. It was, in fact, an arm.

_Gendry’s_ arm, she concluded horrified.

Within an instant, she was wide awake and registering their exact sleeping position: she lied on his arm, her back to him, his other arm casually draped around her waist and his head buried in her neck. It seemed strangely...intimate.

Every alarm in her head went off. _I have to get out of here. Now_. Panicked, she tried to wiggle out of his embrace, which only resulted in him shifting and pulling her even closer. She huffed. _Okay, new plan._ Careful not to wake him, she slowly lifted his arm up and rolled away from him. She held her breath, waiting for an reaction, but Gendry just grunted slightly and then kept on snoring.

 

Arya let out a sigh if relief as she lied down in her actual pillow and closed her eyes, trying to ban every thought of the bull out of her head. Without success.

_Stupid_. Now she had not only kissed Gendry, but spent the night embracing him.

And actually _liked_ it.

Because as much as it annoyed her to admit, she wasn't nearly as comfortable now as she had been before. And somehow she now wasn't able to find the right sleeping position. Arya snorted frustrated and kicked her blanket away.

_Ugh, I can forget about sleeping tonight_.

 

She threw a look out the window. It wasn’t sunrise yet, but the moon was slowly sinking down. They should have about an hour before leaving.

 

***

“Remember the plan?”

 

Arya nodded. “Yes. We’re a young couple who’s parents won’t allow us to marry, so we ran away together.”

 

When exactly had she agreed to this? She couldn’t remember for the life of her.

 

Davos nodded. “And what will we not do?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Unnecessarily stab someone.”

 

“What else?”

 

“You’re pushing it, Davos.”

 

“What else?”

 

Arya sighed. “Insult or hit Gendry which may or may not lead to a fight in which I could accidentally reveal my true identity and get caught.”

 

Davos smirked. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

 

She rolled her eyes again, strapping Needle around her waist. Something told her she would be needing it tonight.

 

Arya watched the former smuggler walking over to Gendry and handing him two hammers. The pair started discussing which one he should choose, comparing the weapons.

Something about the sight made her suddenly grow thoughtful. The two men were taking a big risk helping her. If they were to get caught, Arya would get scolded, but Gendry and Davos could be facing some serious punishment. The thought of them getting thrown into the black cells because of a her made her sick with guilt. Arya swallowed hard.

As he made to leave the room, she grabbed the old sailor by the arm and pulled him down to her.

 

“Listen, Davos”, she started, her voice low, “If we do get caught, you run, alright? I don’t want you getting into trouble for me.”

 

He looked at her, frowning. “Let’s see it doesn’t come to that in the first place.”

 

“But if-“

 

Davos nodded. “-If we do get in danger, I’ll run.” He glanced to Gendry, who was still standing a few feet back, testing out the hammers the seaman lent him. “Can’t promise anything for the lad, though. It’s not going to be easy, holding him back.”

 

“Please. I couldn’t bear to see him get hurt because of me.”

 

His wrinkly eyes studied her expression. He nodded with understanding. “You care for him.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

 

Before she had any time to answer, he held up his hand. “No, don’t say anything. It’s alright. I’ll do everything I can to get him back safely.”

 

She closed her eyes for a second, nodding. “Thank you.”

 

Davos patted her shoulder. “You should tell him.”

 

“Tell him what?”

 

He just smiled knowingly and walked out of the chamber, leaving Arya alone to deal with her confusion.

 

***

Compared to the streets of King's Landing, the tunnels beneath the capital were dead silent, the only sounds being their footsteps. More specifically, Gendry’s footsteps. Years of water dancing had made Arya’s steps soft. If she wanted to, she could move without making any noise. Davos seemed to have picked up a similar kind of skill in his smuggling practices, as he was moving far more silent and smooth than she had ever expected for a man of his age. Gendry on the other hand was the embodiment of his nickname, moving as silent and smooth as a bull.

 

She let out an annoyed huff. They were going to get caught if he kept on like this.

 

Gendry turned to her. “What?”, he whispered.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Obviously something’s botherin’ you. Just say it.”

 

She sighed. “It’s just...you are walking impossibly loud. Every guard from here to the Red Keep can hear you.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

 

“I’m not. Honestly, try walking any louder. It’s physically impossible.”

 

“You’re one to talk. As if your constant huffing won’t attract attention.”

 

“If you wouldn’t stomp around here I wouldn’t have anything to be annoyed about.”

 

“Oh yeah? If -“

 

“Just walk more carefully for fucks sake. And stop fighting!” Davos’ gruff whisper from a few steps ahead shut them both up.

 

The silence didn’t last long, though.

 

“Where did you learn to walk like that, anyway? I can’t imagine a lady having a lot of sneaking around to do.”

 

Arya frowned. “I told you, I’m not a lady. And I learned it from my dance teacher.”

 

Gendry’s eyebrows seemed to disappear in his hairline. In his surprise he forgot where they were, raising his voice. “You had a _dance teacher_?”

 

“Shhhh!” Arya threw a concerned look around, glancing apologetically at Davos who was glaring daggers at them. “Scream any louder, why don’t you?”

 

“Sorry. So you actually had dancing lessons?“ He let out a quiet laugh. “I always knew you were just another rich girl.” His brows quirked up teasingly, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

Arya felt a grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. _Two can play at this game._

 

She didn’t know why she did it. It wasn’t something she usually did. Honestly, it wasn’t something she ever did. But maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her strangely brave and daring, which made her step out of her comfort zone. Arya was good at fighting and at handling numbers, but manipulating had always been Sansa’s strong suit. Suddenly a part of her was glad she had to listen to all her sister’s ramblings about men, to her flirting secrets.

Because, she realised, this was exactly what they were doing right now.

Flirting.

 

Arya turned to watch him over her shoulder and put on her most Sansa-like face: Equally parts arrogant and seductive. At least, that was the hoped effect.

Raising her brows, she answered. “You don’t know any other rich girls.” She batted her eyes playfully, holding his stare. And surprisingly, it seemed to work: Gendry looked pleasantly surprised, eyebrows raised in fascination.

 

_You have got to leave him wanting more. That’s the secret, really_.

 

She flipped her hair and seemingly turned her attention back to the road ahead of them, a victorious grin forming on her face as started walking a bit faster than him. _It worked. I can’t believe this actually worked._

 

Davos held up his hand, a signal for them to stop while he looked around the corner.

 

Feeling very confident, Arya turned to Gendry once again, sending him a teasing smirk over her shoulder. He was still looking at her, standing two or three paces away from her, lips slightly parted. His brows were furrowed, as if she was a riddle he just couldn’t seem to solve.

Suddenly she found it very hard to look away.

In an attempt to gain control of the situation, she let her gaze fall to the ground, biting on her bottom lip subconsciously.

 

_What am I even doing here?_

 

When she met his eyes again, it was as though the noises outside seemed to disappear. Her heart started hammering in her chest and her breath got shorter as she felt herself getting more and more hooked in his gaze. Then, she could see his eyes dart to her lips.

 

Sansa’s voice rang through her head once more.

_It’s also helpful to bring attention to your lips. That makes them think about kissing you._

 

But did she even want that?

 

This was just a game, right?

 

Then Gendry locked eyes with her again and her mind went blank, leaving only a warm and empty feeling in her stomach. He took a step closer. And another. The hair on her neck stood up as he crossed the distance between them and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for -

 

 

“Shit!”

 

She blinked, very harshly falling out of her trance. Davos had turned back to them, a frown on his face.

 

“There’s some guards at the end of the tunnel. It’s time for plan B.”

 

The sailor’s eyes were now darting between the her and Gendry, who was still standing very close and looked almost as confused as her. As if realising it, he frowned, then took a step back and cleared his throat.

 

Davos eyed them closely, still frowning. “Focus, both of you. Remember our plan.”

 

Arya nodded, swallowing hard.

 

_This is it. You’ll either be free or be locked up forever._

 

She glanced at Gendry, hoping that he was just as scared as she was. As if sensing her nervousness, he gave her a reassuring smile. Then he took her hand in his, giving it a slight squeeze.

 

She smiled back, gripping onto his hand like a lifeline, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Which was, of course, caused by her fear, not by the sudden physical contact. Because this was part of the plan. Playing a couple. This wasn’t real at all.

 

Davos gave the signal and they walked around the corner, towards a group of soldiers who were sitting on some stools and talking quietly, blocking their way.

 

The water dancer inside of her assessed the situation quickly: four guards, every one of them armed with a broadsword. Even if Davos fought with them, they were still outnumbered. And that was ignoring the fact that at least two of the guards were a good two feet taller than her. And that they all had armour, unlike Gendry and Arya.

 

No, this wasn’t a battle they could win with arms. They would have to convince the goldcloaks to let them through.

 

Spotting the three, the guards quickly stood up. The biggest of them talked, his voice gruff and intimidating.

 

“Who goes there?”

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, because I keep my promises.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Arya was desperately trying to calm her breathing as they made their way through the dark tunnels, still feeling the soldier’s gaze following them.

 

She turned to Gendry. “Do you think it worked?”

 

“I think so”, he whispered back.

 

Behind her she could hear some clattering, heavy footsteps and hushed voices. It seemed the guards were having second thoughts about their story.

 

“Don’t turn around. Just keep walking”, Davos whispered. Her grip on Gendry’s hand grew tighter.

 

_We need to convince them. Distract them. But how?_

 

A thought passed through her mind. All of a sudden, Arya stopped walking.

 

“Gendry”, she said. “Kiss me.”

 

He froze and looked at her, dumbfounded. “ _What_?”

 

“I said kiss me. Now.”

 

“I don’t -“

 

But Arya had already grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips onto his. For a second Gendry stayed stiff, completely thrown off guard. Yet, to her surprise, after the initial shock he started kissing her back passionately. His hands found their way around her waist and he pulled her closer to him, causing her to stand on her toes and run her hand through his hair. She was still clenching his shirt in her other hand, dragging him down to her. 

 

It felt just like the last time. All of their surroundings seemed to fade out, everything except him and the way his hands felt on her. The way his lips moved against hers. She was once again captivated by his smell, his mouth, his arms -

 

“I think the coast is clear.”

 

Davos’ voice brought them back to reality. Breathless, they looked at each other for a second before realising their situation. Arya quickly let go off his shirt and stepped out of his arms. Gendry cleared his throat.

 

“Very good, uh, distraction. Quick thinking on your part there.”

 

He looked so good, his hair messy and his lips slightly parted. His eyes were maybe more hypnotising than ever.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Her stomach dropped. Gods, those eyes should be forbidden. Especially with the way they were looking at her now. Maybe she could just -

 

Davos cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. “Let’s go. Your manoeuvre bought us some time, but we should still get out of here.”

 

He wasn’t even trying to hide the winning smirk creeping onto his face as he led them further into the darkness.

 

Gendry took her hand again as they kept increasing their tempo. Arya’s heart was beating so loud in her chest, but she didn’t know if it was because of the kiss or because of the very real danger they were in. Actually, she was confused about a lot of her emotions right now. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was very afraid.

 

She chewed on her bottom lip, deep in her own thoughts, as the smuggler led them around another corner. They were almost jogging now.

 

“It’s not far. We’ve almost made it. Keep walking”, he whispered.

 

And she almost let herself believe that they could do it. Almost.

 

But yet, just when they reached the end of the path, the inevitable voice called out behind them.

 

“Oi, you three! Stop right there!”

 

She froze, closing her eyes for a second. _So close._

 

Glancing beside her, she saw her own panic reflected in Gendry’s eyes. Davos’ mouth was set in a thin line. His instructions stayed the same. “Keep walking. Go left here.”

 

“Oi! I’m talking to you!”

 

The old man pulled them into another tunnel, picking up the pace. He stopped at a crossing and turned to Arya.

 

“Alright, little lady, we have about a minute or two before they reach us. There’s a tunnel right here leading into the basement of a Flea Bottom tavern. It would be wise to take that one.”

 

She nodded, understanding perfectly what he meant with that. _So we’ll part ways_.

 

“Which one leads outside?”

 

He pointed at the one to their right. “You walk through there, take the first one to your right and then the second to the left. It should get you just outside the city gates.”

 

“Wait, what’s going on? Are you not coming with us Davos?” Gendry was looking between them, confused.

 

She took a deep breath. “No, Gendry. I’m going alone.” She met his eyes and saw a hundred different emotions flickering in them. The main one was hurt.

 

“But...I’m helping you get home. I’m bringing you home. I’ll fight for you if necessary.”

 

“Listen, you’ve already helped more than enough. You’ve brought me this far. But I don’t want you getting punished for it. I _can’t_.”

 

“Arya, I’m not letting you -“

 

“Lad, she’s right. She’ll be faster alone. We have to go.”

 

Behind the blue eyes she could see his mind working. He understood. At least she hoped he did.

 

Gendry took her hands in his calloused ones. Something about the gesture made her stomach turn again, sending shivers down her spine.

 

And then it happened. Her head was spinning, but maybe for the first time in months, she could think clearly.

 

_I’m an idiot_.

 

Of course she liked him. She liked everything about him. His eyes, his hair, his lips. The way that he knew exactly which buttons to push to get her riled up. The way he always seemed to know what she was thinking. The fact that he was the only one who truly understood her.

Maybe liking wasn’t the right word for it.

 

Gendry seemed to be struggling for words. “Arya, I need you to know that -“

 

She shut him up with a kiss, grabbing his face and pulling him down to her, desperately trying to convey all her emotion through it. By the way he kissed her back, she figured he understood. Of course he did. He always did.

 

Arya broke the kiss, still holding his face in between her hands. His eyes were the brightest she’d ever seen them.

 

“I know. Me too.” And she truly meant it.

 

_I just wish I’d have realised it sooner. I wish things were different._

 

But things were the way they were.

So she let go off him, stepping back and adjusting Needle, her heart tromping in her chest. She gave a nod to Davos.

 

“Go. Now.”

 

Gendry hadn’t moved. He looked as if he’d been hit in the head with his own hammer.

 

_Maybe confessing my feelings for him right now wasn’t the best idea_.

 

Davos grabbed him by the arm, tugging him towards the tunnel leading back into the city.

 

“Remember lass, go right, then the second one to the left.”

 

She nodded, her throat already closing up. “Thank you. For everything.”

 

The smuggler smiled and gave her one last nod, then turned around and pulled the still slightly dumbfounded Gendry into the dark tunnel. The look her blacksmith gave her over his shoulder said everything.

 

_We’ll see each other again. I’ll make sure of it._

 

Then Arya was left alone, somewhere in the labyrinth beneath King’s Landing, on the run from the goldcloaks, now without any allies.

 

_That’s not true. I still have my Needle._

 

 

 

Arya wiped away the tears that had crept down her face and started running.

 

***

 

“Are you ever coming to bed?”

 

Ned looked up from his notes and met the famous blue Tully eyes of his wife. She looked beautiful, leaning in the doorframe, in her nightgown, her soft curls falling on her shoulders. Like she hadn’t aged a day since that evening they had met. He wanted to get lost in the deep blue of her eyes, as he had done a thousand times before. But instead of the usual soft look they had reserved for him, they were now hard and accusing.

 

He nodded. “Aye. Just have to finish this.”

 

Catelyn frowned. “No you’re not. You haven’t slept in our bed in days.” She sighed and let herself fall onto the chair in front of him. “This is not healthy, Ned. You need to sleep, otherwise you’ll work yourself to death.”

 

He stayed quiet and focused on his parchments again. What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t want to sleep, when every time he closed his eyes he saw Arya? That he needed to work to distract himself from the ever growing panic in his chest?

 

His wife knew him well enough to read his silence.

“Ned. Look at me.” He glanced up again. Cat was still frowning, but her look had turned more worried than angry.“I’m scared, too. I’m terrified, actually. But it won’t help us, Arya or anybody in the realm if you don’t look after yourself.” She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. “Sansa needs her father right now, more than ever, and I- I need my husband. Please. Promise me you’ll take it easier.”

 

He sighed, running both hands through his face. “It’s not that simple, Cat. I can’t take it easy. There is so much to be done, so much on my mind that I - I can’t just go to sleep. I have so many things to worry about.”

 

She sighed, too, reaching over the table and taking his hand. “Then tell me. Tell me what’s on your mind.” She squeezed his hand with urgency. “Let me help you.”

 

Ned gave her a sad smile. “You can’t help me with this, love. I’m sorry.”

 

Her look got hard again, so hard it gave him chills. Catelyn let go of his hand, her lips pressed into a thin line. He shivered. _Now I know how Arya feels when she’s getting lectured_.

“Eddard Stark, you are _not_ shutting me out of your life! I won’t let you. Not tell me what’s going on right bloody now so that we can figure this out together.”

 

He sighed. Deeply. _This woman will be the death of me._

Carefully he assessed the room for a few seconds. There were two servants strolling past the open door, plus a few windows. A lot of possibilities for their conversation to be overheard. No, this was too dangerous, especially considering what he was about to say. He shook his head slightly and lowered his voice.

“Not here.”

 

***

The dark tunnel seemed to stretch endlessly before her. To stay hidden from the soldiers she had blown out her torch, a decision a little part of her regretted now. As her eyes got slowly accustomed to the darkness, she reminded herself of Davos’ instructions.

 

_The first one to the right, then the second to the left._

 

It was awfully quiet down here. Where were the goldcloaks? Shouldn’t she hear their footsteps by now?

 

_First one to the right, second to the left._

 

She thanked every gods she knew for the water dancing which had prepared her for this. Thanks to her training, she could run longer and faster than most people. It seemed to have worked for her advantage, as the guards were nowhere near her.

Still, she didn’t slow down.

 

_First to the right, second to the left._

 

Arya’s mind started to drift off. Did Gendry and Davos make it? Were the guards maybe chasing them and not her? Were they alright? She guessed she would find out soon enough.

 

Suddenly she spotted a small pathway on her right. _This must be it_. Throwing a careful look around, she entered the tunnel.

 

Their last kiss swirled around in her head. The look on his face as they parted. His beautiful blue eyes which she would most likely never see again.

The thought stung more than anything.

She cursed herself for not admitting her feelings sooner. Because she had had feelings for Gendry for quite a while now, that was pretty obvious. She was in love. Actually in love. Who would have ever thought that?

_Would it have changed anything, though? If I had realised it sooner?_ They would have had a few more days at the most.

Why did they have to fall in love right now? Right now when her life was so confusing and complicated already?

 

_Well, I did always know to pick the worst possible times for everything. It’s only natural that I fall in love when I least wanted to, with someone I can never have._

 

She could never be with him, that much Arya knew. There could never be a real future for them. Because as much as she didn’t care about it, he was still a blacksmith from Flea Bottom, she a highborn. Her parents would never allow them to be together.

Things would be different if he were a knight, a lord. Maybe they would have met at court, at a feast. Or a ball. Maybe he would have won a tournament and crowned her as his queen of love and beauty, like in all the stories Sansa used to love when they were little.

She tried to imagine him in a shining armour, in an expensive tunic like the ones they wore at court, but all she could see were his greasy blacksmith clothes.

It made her smile.

No, he wasn’t a lord, just as she wasn’t a lady.

Because they were meant to fall in love in the wilderness, in freedom. A forest. The Riverlands, maybe. Just two young people, no pression of society. They could build a tiny but cozy house, someplace nice. Live in a small town, make their living by forging weapons. Or live in the forest, as outlaws.

It was a pretty image.

But that’s all it was. An image. A fantasy.

 

Not for the first time in her life did Arya wish she was born a commoner.

 

She froze in her steps. _One...two._ She had to go left here, then freedom should be straight down the tunnel.

 

Arya couldn’t believe it. She had actually managed to get out of the city. She had actually made it. Her mouth quirked up in a wide smile as she picked up her pace once again and started sprinting.

 

There. There it was. The first ray of sunlight shining into the narrow passage. Freedom.

 

Her heart grew lighter as the small dot at the end of the tunnel got bigger and bigger. From here in it would all be easier. She could get a horse, spend some nights in inns and before she knew it she would be back in Winterfell where she belonged.

 

Arya stepped out of the tunnel and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. None of the city’s smells contaminated it. Just clean, fresh morning air. Before she could help it, she let out a laugh. Loud, hysterical and flooded with relief, overwhelmed by the last few days. A broad smile plastered on her face, she reopened her eyes and took the first few steps outside the capital.

 

She didn’t get far.

 

“So it is true. The little stark bitch is on the run.”

 

Her heart nearly stopped. _No. Nononononononono._

The hair on her neck stood up and every muscle in her body tensed. With a quick and swift movement, Arya drew Needle and turned around, prepared to fight anyone getting in her way.

She hadn’t expected this.

 

The man standing behind her was huge. He towered over her, intimidating with his broadsword in hand, in full armour. But she didn’t look at his sword.

 

She could only look at the burn marks on his face.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less than a month this time! Yay!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this even though it’s kind of depressing and there is no Gendrya. Sorry. It’ll get better, I promise, just needed a filler chapter to advance the plot lol

“You have no right to take me”, she blurted out. Clegane raised an eyebrow at her.

 

Arya took a deep breath, trying to wiggle out of his grip again. As if it would help. “You have no _right_ to take me back to the Keep. I am my own person. You _can’t_ take me back there.”

 

“And what are you going to do, huh? Poke me with that little stick here?”

 

He waved Needle mockingly.

 

It had all happened way too fast. Before she had any time to process her shock, Clegane had knocked the sword out of her hand and she had found herself trapped and her hands tied.

Syrio would be ashamed of her.

Arya cursed herself for not scanning her surroundings more thoroughly when she got out of the tunnel.

_I’m the biggest idiot alive. Can’t even run away from home properly._

 

The Hound pulled her forward, his grip like iron around her arm, digging into her flesh roughly.

She tried to scratch the arm that was holding her captive. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

With all the strength she had, she kicked his shin.

 

He hardly even seemed to notice. “That all you got? I thought they called you the she-wolf.”

 

Before she could get the chance to kick him again (she had the vague idea of aiming for his balls this time), he simply swung her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. With her hands tied and her feet held down by him, there really wasn’t much she could do.

 

Arya had never felt so helpless and humiliated as when the Hound carried her through the city gates.

 

***

 

Cat took a deep breath and sat down on the bed.

 

“Are you completely sure about that? Someone murdered him?”

 

“Yes. I would bet my life on it.”

 

She swallowed. “Don’t say such things. Please.” Then she nodded. “Alright. Jon was murdered.”

 

Ned sat down beside her. “Yes. And I have absolutely no idea what information he possibly could have found out. It had to be something dangerous.”

 

“You’re saying he read a book? The day before he died, I mean.”

 

“Aye, but I couldn’t make much sense out of it.”

 

She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking hardly. A habit he so often had noticed on Arya, too.

The thought made him smile a little.

 

“I think you should follow Petyr’s advice. Go to that armoury, retrace Jon’s last steps.”

 

Ned frowned. “Littlefinger? You’re telling me to listen to _Littlefinger_?” He shook his head. “I don’t trust that man.”

 

“And you think I do? I’m telling you to get to the bottom of this. Jon must have had his reasons to visit the forge and we have to find out which they were. But be careful about it. Tell nobody. Take only your most trusted guard.”

 

Cat took his hand and caressed his with her thumb. “You know you’re not going to be able to sleep until you find out the truth.”

 

She was right. She was right and he knew it. He took a deep breath. “Cat, I -“

 

There was a knock on the door. Catelyn looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Who is it?”

 

Jory peeked his head through the door.

 

“M’lord, m’lady... don’t mean to bother you, but...” He let out a deep breath. “You should come downstairs. They found your daughter.”

 

***

 

She had stopped struggling half an hour after entering King’s Landing again.

 

She had stopped screaming about an hour ago.

 

She had stopped crying as soon as they entered the richer part of the town, realising it had no sense.

 

Nothing had any sense anymore.

 

Now Arya was walking beside Clegane, who had let her down when he noticed she wasn’t trying to escape, head held high to preserve at least some of her dignity, feeling worse and worse with every step she took towards the Keep.

The silence they’d been walking in wasn’t helping at all, but the knight didn’t make any efforts to talk to her.

_I can’t stand this anymore._

 

She cleared her throat. “You don’t want to know why I left?”

 

The man scoffed. “I don’t give a shit.”

 

“Liar. Surely you want to know.”

 

“I don’t. I just need to get you back to the castle and collect my gold.” He didn’t even look at her, just kept staring ahead. But Arya wasn’t finished with this conversation.

 

She sighed. “I know what you must be thinking of me. That I’m a spoiled little lady who got bored of her life and snuck out for some adventure.”

 

“I don’t care.” He may not care, but he certainly had an opinion about her, that was obvious by the way he said it.

 

It shouldn’t matter to her what a widely as cruel and terrifying regarded knight thought of her. It really shouldn’t. But for some reason Arya needed to set things straight.

 

“They wanted me to marry. They were forcing me to, actually.”

 

The Hound stayed quiet, continuing to stomp down the path to the Keep.

 

“That’s just...not me. All of it. Wearing dresses, walking elegantly, talking about some bullshit like knights and tournaments and Cersei’s new hair. I like swords, fighting and wearing pants. Eating what I want the way I want to, without thinking of how ladylike I look.” Why was she pouring her heart out to him? Maybe it was the nervousness and the fear of getting lectured by her parents, of being locked in again. Maybe it was all the conflicted emotions of the last few days that made her unusually talkative.

 

Arya let her eyes drop to the floor, spotting a small stone. Frustrated, she kicked it away.

 

“It was fine in Winterfell. I had my freedom. But when we came down here, everything got so much worse. So bad that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So the night my parents told me about my marriage, I had enough and I snuck out. I had to get out of there, don’t you understand?”

 

Clegane snorted. “What I understand is that you had a perfectly fine life and ran away from it as soon as it got hard.”

 

“That’s not - they were forcing me to marry a stranger when they knew I would never want that! They weren’t even trying to talk to me about it and -“

 

Arya closed her mouth when he stopped and turned around, looking her directly into the face. From up close his scars seemed even more terrifying. It truly was an intimidating sight.

She tried to calm herself. _I’m not afraid of him. What could he possibly do to me?_ She doubted her parents would pay the ransom if she was hurt in any way.

 

So Arya lifted her chin up defiantly and met his stare.

 

“You think in this world people get to do what they want?” Clegane spit on the ground. “You think all these poor fuckers are living in Flea Bottom because they want to? You think all of Baelish’s whores always dreamed about fucking old men?”

 

“I didn’t say that. It just isn’t fair -“

 

“I’m going to tell you what’s not fair. Getting your face melted off just because you played with one of your brother’s toys.” He angrily gestured to his face. “Having to live with these scars for the rest of your life. Men fighting and dying in wars some rich cunts started. One drunk fuck sitting on the iron throne and getting to tell everyone what to do, even when there’s at least a hundred men who would make a better king. Life’s not fair, wolf girl. Not for anybody. Now would you please shut the fuck up so that I can get you to your parents without smashing your pretty little head in?”

 

And she actually did. Shut the fuck up. Mostly because she had no idea what to answer to his outburst. She was also a little shocked by the personal trauma he had just accidentally shared with her. For a few steps, they walked beside each other silently, Arya trying to process everything he had just said.

 

Then the Hound cleared his throat and broke the silence, his voice gentler than before. “I hate all those cunts at court, too. I get it. But running away isn’t solving any of your problems, just makes your parents worried.”

 

She sighed. “They are going to kill me, aren’t they?”

 

The corners of his mouth twitched up for a second. ”That’s not my business, wolf girl. I’m just delivering you.”

 

Another few seconds passed before he spoke again. “If you tell anyone about my brother I’ll kill you.”

 

Arya nodded. “I know.”

***

 

She didn’t struggle as the Hound dragged her through the Red Keep’s gates. She didn’t struggle as he pulled her up the stairs to the great hall. She didn’t try to escape as he gruffly informed the guards of what was happening. She just stayed silent, still.

 

Then her parents entered. They had obviously been woken up by her arrival: her mother was still wearing a nightgown, loose hair flying behind her. Upon seeing their daughter, both Catelyn and Ned froze.

 

The Hound let her arm go. “You’re on you own now, wolf girl.” With a pat on her shoulder that she supposed was meant to be comforting, he stomped out of the hall.Arya gulped, bracing herself for what’s to come, holding the stares of her parents, which were unreadable at this point.

 

She expected a lecture. Yelling. Maybe even a slap in the face for all she’d put them through.

 

What she definitely hadn’t expected from her parents and especially from her mother was a hug. A bone crashing, desperate, relieved hug.

 

“Oh Arya”, Cat whispered as she stroked her hair, tears running down her cheeks, “We were so worried about you.”

 

Ned had tears in his eyes, too. “My little wolf. I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

She wanted to feel guilty for running away. For hurting them. She really did.

She wanted to feel even the tiniest bit of relief and happiness upon seeing them both again.

 

But all she felt was hollow.

 

All she could think of was a tall boy with black hair and the freedom she had lost.

 

“I’m sorry for pressuring you, sweeting”, her father whispered, “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

 

A few days ago, that sentence would have relieved her. Comforted her and made her happy.

 

But today she was wiser, today Arya knew that wasn’t true.

 

She would have to marry.

 

***

Everything felt wrong.

Being back in her room.

Lying in her bed. Her soft, warm featherbed that she somehow didn’t find comfortable anymore.

Being back at court.

Seeing her parents and her sister again.

 

_Not having him here with me._

 

Arya had never felt heartbreak. She had never fallen for anyone before, felt anything for anyone besides her family. Never in her life had she thought she could miss someone this much.

It felt like there was a hole in her gut and nothing could fill it. A deep, dark, painful hole where once her insides had been, leaving her feeling sore and hollow. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything besides laying on her pillows and staring at the ceiling, imagining blue eyes crinkling with laughter. Gods how she liked it when he laughed. Or smiled. Or smirked. Or did anything, really.

 

There was a faint knock on her door. She didn’t even bother to come out of her bed.

 

“Go away.”

 

“It’s me. Sansa.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone.” _Especially not you._

 

Her sister opened the door anyway, causing Arya to groan loudly. She stuck her head out of the pillows to look at Sansa, which might have been a mistake,

She looked stunning, as always, her hair made into the intricate braid that Cersei had made so popular at court, wearing a beautiful blue gown that complimented not only her figure but also her red hair. Everything about her seemed perfect, from the way she talked to the way she practically floated around.

It only made Arya feel worse about herself.

 

“What do you want?”, she asked, her voice muffled beneath the pillows she buried herself under.

 

“I just...wanted to talk, I guess.” If she didn’t know better, she would almost say that Sansa seemed shy. Unsure of herself. But that impression only lasted a second, before her sister took a deep breath and sat down on her bed beside her. In perfect fashion, of course.

 

“It’s just...I don’t think you quite understand in what a position you have put mother and father into. With you running away, I mean”, she started, causing Arya to groan again. Sansa shot her an angry look. “No, listen to me! I know father was just too happy to have you back to fight with you. But besides making us sick with worry, you embarrassed us in front of the whole court, weakened father’s position and also made yourself look bad. How do you expect to find a husband now? Nobody will want the wild Stark girl, someone who is likely to run away a few days before the wedding. What were you thinking?”

 

Finally she rose from underneath the pillows to meet Sansa’s stare. She knew the lecture was supposed to make her feel ashamed. A few days ago that might have worked. A few days ago she would have been angry at the prospect of marriage. But somehow none of the words or the stares made her feel anything but tired.

Gods how tired she was. Of everything.

 

Arya nodded. “I know what I did and what it caused. But I stand by it. Can you go now?”

 

Sansa looked shocked. Offended. Not so pretty anymore with her flared nostrils and a scowl that put the Hound’s to shame. Abruptly she got up from the bed to stomp around the room.

Arya took a deep breath, bracing herself. _Here it comes._

 

Sansa swirled around, her skirts flying around her.

“How can you be so incredibly selfish, Arya?! Never in you entire life have you cared about our family’s reputation or done anything -ANYTHING- to preserve it! No, you just do what you want, no matter the consequences, because you know that the others will clean up your mess. But this is GOING to have consequences for you, even if you’re father’s favourite. You can’t run away from your responsibilities your whole life, even you should know that!”

 

Arya had half a mind to defend herself, but it seemed her sister hadn’t finished yet. In fact, she had just warmed up.

 

“Do you have ANY idea what I had to give up all these years because of your escapades?” Sansa stopped pacing around, buried her head in her hands and took a deep breath to calm herself. When she turned back around, Arya couldn’t believe her eyes. _Are those tears?_

 

“It all falls on _me_. _I_ have to be the perfect daughter, the perfect lady, do everything right just because _you_ refuse to grow up. But guess what, little sister: life’s not all about you.”

 

She wiped away her tears, her face now cleared of all emotions.

 

“You don’t GET to to what you want all day. That’s just not how this world works. And the sooner you realise that, the easier it will be for all of us.”

 

Somehow this Sansa was more terrifying than the screaming Sansa. Her sister had always been a dreamer, believed in fairy tales and true love. When had she gotten so cynical?

Arya couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Sansa had had to give up. What had hurt her so badly. And how she hadn’t known about it. It made guilt rise up deep within her stomach.

 

_I have been so focused on myself that I didn't even notice what was going on in her life._

 

Sansa let out a deep breath, relieved. It seemed she had wanted to say these things for a while now. She straightened her dress and walked towards the door.

Her hand on the grip, she swallowed.

 

“You’re not the first one to get married against her will, you know.” She didn’t even look at her.

 

Arya found her voice again, things finally clicking in her head.

 

“You don’t like Joffrey.”

 

Sansa let go of the door, turning back to her.

 

“Of course I don’t like him, you idiot. He’s a monster”, she whispered angrily.

 

It didn’t make sense. “But..why don’t you just tell father? Why are you doing this?”

 

“It’s called doing your duty, Arya. You should try it sometimes.” It sounded bitter. Tired.

 

Suddenly it became clear. Arya eyed her sister closely. “Who was it?”

 

“Who was who?”

 

“Who’d you have to give up?”

 

Sansa scowled. “That’s none of you business.” With a flip of her hair, she turned around and left the room.

 

Arya was left alone to think about the answer to her question, even though she already had an idea who this might be about.

 

A small smile crept onto her lips. She and her sister might not be as different as she had once thought. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and kinda depressing one. Sorry.   
> But the plot is thickening... ;)
> 
> Hope you like it :))

Three weeks had passed since she arrived at the Keep. Three weeks of her mostly staying inside her chambers, strongly guarded of course. Three weeks of her family treating her like a raw egg, avoiding talking about marriage or the days she had been missing.

 

It was rather nice, actually. As far as heartbreak could be nice.

Arya was mostly left alone by everyone at court, allowing her to spend many hours in her room practicing with Needle. She didn’t quite know what she was practicing for, as she likely wouldn’t ever get a chance to leave again, but with the burning of her muscles she at least felt something other than the constant numbness.

 

A good part of those three weeks were also spent brooding. Staring at the ceiling and mourning her freedom. Imagining the things Gendry was up to at the moment.

Was he thinking of her?

Surely he was. Because she was thinking of him almost every second of the day.

How was is even possible to miss someone that much?

 

The meals with her family had been quiet. Awkward. They had consisted of many fake smiles, long silences and quick subject changes, mostly by Sansa. Arya really hadn’t felt like talking. What was she supposed to tell them, anyway? About her adventures outside of the castle? Of her falling in love with a blacksmith? Of her hacking at the stone pillars in her room and screaming into her pillow just to feel anything?

 

So she had stayed silent, listened to her sister’s ramblings, and eaten her food. Like a lady. She had even started to wear dresses, just to soothe the tensions. Something she had always hated.

But without Gendry, did it even matter? 

 

In total she had three weeks of peace. 

 

It had taken her parents three weeks to get back onto the topic of her betrothal.

 

“Look, Arya.”

 

She knew what was coming. She had known it since she had arrived back at the castle.

Every night she had thought about it and imagined ways she could react. She had imagined screaming at her mother, flinging mashed potatoes at her, even crying.

 

But she knew it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

 

So Arya took a deep breath, chewed and closed her eyes while her mother got on with the speech she had probably prepared beforehand. While the chicken she was eating turned to ash in her mouth.

 

“We know this isn’t what you want. Hells, if I could decide, I wouldn’t make you do this. But you are a highborn lady, if you want it or not. And this is what highborn ladies _do_. What is expected of them.” Catelyn looked like she was being honest. She probably was.

 

Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.

 

“Love, as we said before”, her father chimed in, “you’ll be able to choose your husband. And you don’t have to marry right now, just be open for the possibility. Let yourself be courted and choose one of them.”

 

_I have chosen. I want Gendry_.

 

She dropped her fork and brought a hand to the bridge of her nose. This fucking thing was starting to give her a headache.

 

“There is talk at court. People are putting pressure on us. You’re seven-and-ten, Arya, people are asking themselves why you’re not long married. Even the King himself is asking.” Her mother sighed. “And see, it is not the worst thing in the world. Maybe you’ll even like it.”

 

_I doubt that, mother._

 

The table went quiet. It seemed her parents had finished talking and were now expecting an answer. She opened her eyes to find them all staring at her: Ned and Catelyn fearful, surely expecting her to shout. Sansa had an eyebrow raised and gave her a chilling look, as if to remind her sister of their conversation. _It’s called doing your duty. You should try it sometimes._

 

And the strange thing was, she wasn’t even angry at them like she had been before. She didn’t have the energy for that. She simply didn’t feel anything.

 

_I can’t be with him, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore._

 

She might as well marry and make her parents happy.

 

So Arya shrugged. “Fine. I don’t care.”

 

She dropped her gaze back to her food, not wanting to see the shocked and happy faces of her family. For a second she considered continuing to eat in silence, but practicing sounded way more appealing right now. She hadn’t been hungry in weeks, anyway.

 

***

That night she dreamed of Winterfell again. But this time, Gendry was with her. She introduced him to Nymeria, and the three of them were running around the hills and forests, laughing, without a care in the world. His eyes were the same blue as the springs in the Godswood and his kisses were as soft and warm as the grass they were rolling in.

She didn’t want to wake up.

The next morning Arya felt different. Like she had enough. Enough of her hollowness, enough of the castle, enough of everything. It was as if she was suffocating. She needed to get out, do something -anything- even if only for a day.

Maybe she could convince her parents to let her visit the city again. Three weeks of agony surely were punishment enough.

 

The trip to her father’s solar proved to be worth it: he was just getting ready to ride out and talking quietly with his wife. Arya saw her chance.

 

She stepped into the room and took a deep breath. “Take me with you. Please.”

 

Ned turned around, surprised. Yet before he could even say anything, her mother answered. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Cat!” Eddard frowned at his wife’s harsh words. Meanwhile, Arya was barely holding back her anger. 

 

Catelyn shot him a meaningful look. “Ned, this is too dangerous and you know it!”

 

He nodded absentmindedly. It seemed they had talked about this before.

Of course they had.

 

“No. This isn’t fair.” Arya had found her old energy again, the void in her chest now filled with rage. Filled with weeks of suppressed emotions. “Why can’t I go with him? Afraid I’ll run away again?”

 

Her mother looked taken aback by her sudden outburst. “No, it’s not-“

 

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it? I agreed, mother. I agreed to marry someone. I am behaving like a lady. I am wearing a _dress_ for gods’ sake!” Furiously she pointed at her outfit.

 

Before Cat could answer, Ned raised his hand. “Enough. This is not the time. Arya, you can join me.” He turned to his wife who was shooting him a murderous glare. “If this gets out, we’re all going to be in danger, anyway. The girl might as well get some fresh air.”

 

Lady Stark looked like she had a lot left to say, but exited the room without another word. Ned sighed, muttering to himself. “I’ll definitely pay for this later.”

 

***

It was a beautiful day. Too hot for her taste, but sunny and bright.

Breathing in the fresh air, Arya already felt more alive than she had in the last few weeks.

Apparently her father wanted to visit some armourer, but he wouldn’t tell her the reason. It was just as well, she figured. Arya didn’t even care where they were going, as long as it had gotten her out of the castle.

 

A few of the neighbourhoods were actually sort of familiar to her now. She remembered an alley here, an impressive building there. They passed the Sept, a few markets, and surprisingly, the street of steel. As their horses trotted into the poorer part of the city, Arya got more and more tense. This area she knew by heart.

 

“Father, where exactly is this armourer we’re visiting?”, she asked carefully.

“Don’t worry, were almost there, it’s just around the corner. Maester Mott lives in Flea Bottom.”

Maester Mott? That name sounds familiar. _It couldn’t be-_ No. There were lots of smiths in King’s Landing. Surely there was more than one Maester Mott. _Even the Gods aren’t that cruel._

But apparently they were. That horrible realisation hit her when Lord Stark led them into the alley and to the smithy she knew so well. _No no no no no. This isn’t happening._ She wasn’t ready to see Gendry again, even less so with her father. Panicked, she stopped.

 

“I think I’ll just wait here. Outside, you know. It’s too hot for me in there.”

 

Ned looked at her, confused. “What? You love being in the forges back home.”

 

“Yes, uhm, but Winterfell is colder than King’s Landing. I’m staying here, you can go in.”

 

His expression got stern and he looked around. “Arya, I‘m not leaving you here alone. Who knows what could happen?”

 

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“Now please don’t make a scene and just come in.”

 

“But I-“

 

“Can I help you?”, a deep and familiar voice called out behind them.

 

_Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit._

 

Thankfully, Arya’s back was facing Gendry. _Maybe I can sneak off without him seeing me?_ She held her breath, praying to the Gods that she would get out of this somehow. Her father gave her one more annoyed look, then turned to the apprentice. “Yes, actually you can. My name is Eddard Stark, this is my daughter Arya. I’m looking for a lad named Gendry.”

_What? Did he somehow find out about us?_ Instinctively, Arya turned around to look at her father in disbelief but she regretted that immediately. Gendry stood before them, covered in his usual layer of soot, hammer in hand, eyes widening at the sight of her. _And handsome as ever._ For a second he seemed frozen, shocked, his blue eyes darting back and forth between her and her father. Different emotions flashed over his face: confusion, concern and hurt. Her gut tightened painfully.

 

The blacksmith cleared his throat and looked at the floor.

 

“Well um, looks like you found him, m’lord. I’m Gendry.” His voice sounded strange, somehow more tense than before. Her father didn’t seem to notice that, or if he did, he chose to ignore it. His eyes scanned the apprentice thoroughly, examining him, as if searching for something.

Never in her life had Arya been so confused and uncomfortable at the same time. She glanced at her father and back to Gendry, who shot her a panicked look.

 

_Did you tell him? What’s going on_?

 

She shook her head and shrugged slightly.

 

_I have no idea, I swear._

 

Ned didn’t seem to notice their silent exchange, he was still eying Gendry. Her mind twirled.

_What is he looking for? What does he want from him?_

 

“I heard Lord Arryn visited you before he died. What did he want?”

 

Gendry shrugged. “Just asked me questions, m’lord. How work was going, how they treated me.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

She saw Gendry’s jaw clench. “Last time he came he asked about my mother. Who she was, what she looked like.”

 

Her father frowned. “And what did you tell him?”

 

“She worked in a tavern. Died when I was little. Had yellow hair”, he answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. Ned Stark nodded slightly and eyed him once more. Arya could see his mind working and wondered for the hundredth time what this was all about. Then her father seemed to break out of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

 

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.” Finally, Gendry looked up from the dust, a little confused. Her father gave him a slight pat on the shoulder. “Now, get back to work, lad.”

 

Her armourer’s apprentice bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, m’lord.” Ned nodded and made his way back to their horses. Then Gendry’s blue eyes met hers. He took her hand into his calloused one and pulled it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss onto her skin. A shiver went down her spine.“M’lady”, he said quietly, fixing her with his gaze, maybe holding her hand a second longer than necessary. She was barely breathing.

 

Arya was trying to put as much of her emotions into her look, praying to all the Gods above that he understood just how much she felt for him. How sorry she was for everything. Gendry nodded slightly, then he turned around and disappeared in the thick smoke coming out of the forge.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one weekend? I must really be on a roll. Don’t get used to it though lol
> 
> I hope you like this very eventful chapter! It’s mostly focused on Ned’s storyline because that’s just the most important one for the plot rn. Don’t worry though, Gendrya time is coming soon ;))

Ned was frantically pacing around in his solar, trying to wrap his head around everything.

 

He found it. The last piece of the puzzle.

The boy was the key to everything, he just knew it. That boy who looked so much like Robert Ned had had to pinch himself when he first saw him.

 

 _Those eyes, that hair_... Yes, there was no doubt that this boy was a true Baratheon. And Gods, that built...it was like travelling back 20 years in time. He looked like a young Robert, before the king had gotten all fat and lazy. Back when he had been every maiden’s dream from Dorne to Winterfell. Back when he and his hammer had overthrown a whole dynasty.

The boy even used a hammer in his daily work.

_It’s almost ridiculous._

 

And he wasn’t the only one who saw the similarities. Arya had looked quite shocked at the forge, too, completely taken aback by Gendry’s Baratheon looks. Ned was sure she had already made the connections. His daughter had always been a quick thinker.

 

It hadn’t taken much research to find out who had been paying Maester Mott for taking Robert’s bastard in as an apprentice. Jon had apparently found the boy quite a while ago and made sure he was taken care of. Ned smiled at the thought. His friend really hadn’t changed a bit in all this time. Jon Arryn just couldn’t help himself from watching over this kid he barely knew.

_There had never existed a kinder man._

 

Lord Stark let himself fall into his seat again, massaging his temples. That, he had found, usually helped him with thinking. Or with his constant headache, at least.

 

So he had a poisoned Hand.

 

He had a book about noble families.

 

He had a corrupt, false and truly not trustworthy group of advisors who dropped very confusing and cryptic hints.

 

He had a King who could possibly be in mortal danger.

 

And now he had a boy, one of the King’s countless bastards. A boy who had been visited by Jon numerous times before, a boy the old Hand had looked after. Observed closely. A boy that was the spitting image of his best friend, as he had looked like in his prime. A boy that, in all honesty, looked more like the King than his trueborn kids.

 

Ned frowned. That was true. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen took after their mother, all had the typical Lannister features: golden hair, green eyes. No black hair or blue eyes, no tall and muscular built.

 

_Maybe that’s it._

 

He felt energised, more so than in weeks, as if a weight had been lifted off of him. He was close, he could feel it. Hastily, Ned searched for the heavy book Pycelle had given him and flicked through the pages.

 

There it was.

 

_Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair..._

_Axon Baratheon, black of hair..._

_Lionel Baratheon, black of hair..._

_Robert Baratheon, black of hair..._

_Joffrey Baratheon, golden-haired._

 

Ned’s face dropped in realisation. _How have I not seen it before?_

 

Every trueborn Baratheon had shown the known features. Every single one. Except Cersei’s kids.

 

Jon’s last words ringed in his head. _The seed is strong._

 

He was talking about the Baratheon traits.

 

_He was trying to warn me._

 

Ned leaned back in his chair, reading the passage in the book again and again, his mouth opening in shock.

 

_Joffrey isn’t a Baratheon._

 

***

Arya, too, was pacing in her chamber, trying desperately to get a grip on her emotions. The numbness of before had been replaced with a whirlwind of feelings: anger, pain and confusion. Gods she was confused.

 

Why did they visit Gendry? How did her father even know of him? What were all these questions for? And why did Ned look so thoughtful on their way back?

 

And then of course, there was seeing _him_ again. It seemed like a blessing and a punch in the face at the same time. Because as much as it hurt, she had felt unbelievably happy to see him again, if only for a second. Knowing that he was safe, that nobody had found out about him helping her. And knowing he had thought about them just as much as she had, knowing he longed for her just as much as she did for him. That had been obvious by the look he gave her.

 

“Ugh!” Arya let out a frustrated grunt, running her fingers through her hair and ruining the pretty braid she had let her maids make this morning. To please her mother, to convince her she really was trying now. To convince her to let her out of the castle. Arya scoffed.

 

_Gods have I been pathetic._

She had let herself fall, let herself be broken by those impossible expectations. She had actually given in. How could she have let that happen? How could she have let herself sink so low?

It had mostly been out of tiredness, honestly. Arya had been tired of resisting, tired of fighting. She had seen no sense in it anymore. She hadn’t been herself.

 

Because if she had been, she’d realised that marrying made even less sense. Not when she was in love with someone else. In love with Gendry.

 

Arya knew what she had to do. She would find a way. She may not know how, but she would get what she wanted.

 

And the first step to her happiness was getting out of this bloody dress and the ridiculous agreement she had made the night before.

 

With another grunt, this time full of determination, she opened the wooden chest next to her bed, digging out her breeches.

 

 _I’m back. And I will make them listen to me_.

 

***

The doors to the King’s wing swung open with a loud croak. On another day, Ned would have maybe cared about making a not quite so dramatic entrance, but today he had other things on his mind.

 

“M’lord, you can’t just barge in there! The king specifically asked to not be disturbed!”

 

Eddard Stark didn’t even stop to face the guard. _Those goldcloaks are useless._

 

“I don’t care what the King said. I am his hand and if I want to disturb him, I will. Now leave the room.”

 

When the soldier didn’t move, Ned shot him a look he had only given someone once before in his life. He straightened his back and stared the man down until he cowered and fled.

 

A small smile formed on his lips. _Still got it._

 

Then he crossed the room in a few big steps and opened the door to the King’s private chambers.

 

“Robert.“

 

The King was sitting at his working desk, in front of him the usual flask of wine, already half empty. He didn’t look pleased about the interruption. “What are you doing here? Seven hells, can’t a man have a minute alone in this fucking castle?”

 

Ned could not care less. “Shut up and listen to me. You’re going to want to hear this.”

 

Without waiting for Robert’s permission, he grabbed the chair in front of his friend and let himself fall into it. The king’s face had turned red, if from anger or from the wine he could not really tell.

 

“What has gotten into you, Ned?! You forget who I am. I ought to- ”

 

Lord Stark took a deep breath. _Better get straight to the point._ “I know who killed Jon and I know why.”

 

That shut him up. Dumbfounded, Robert stared at his best friend, anger long forgotten.

 

“But you need to promise me to not do anything about it. Not right now, at least. We need to figure out a plan, first.”

 

“What-“

 

“I’m serious, Robert. Promise me.”

 

It seemed the King was at a loss for words. He just nodded, his brows furrowing.

 

Ned sighed. “I met a boy today. Your boy. He’s a smith in Flea Bottom.” Robert raised an eyebrow.

 

“Your bastard, Robert. You should have seen him, like travelling back in time. He has your hair, your eyes, everything.”

 

The king scoffed. “Where are you going with this? Can’t be the only bastard I have. What does Jon have to do with him?”

 

“The boy looks exactly like you. And you look exactly like your father. And his father before him.” Eddard leaned over the table, closer to his friend.

 

“But Joffrey doesn’t.”

 

Robert frowned. “He takes after his mother is all.” Rubbing his hands over his face, he stood up and started pacing the room. Then he turned to Ned. “Heavens above, Ned, are you suggesting -“ The king stopped himself and continued pacing around.

 

The Hand got up, too. “There hasn’t been a single Baratheon in history to take after his mother. What I’m suggesting is that your heir isn’t a true Baratheon. Look at me, Robert.”

 

Tired, blue eyes met his and there wasn’t a doubt left in his mind that he was speaking the truth. That he had figured it out. “There have been rumours. About your queen and her brother. And there are other bastards. Remember the girl in the Riverlands? The one you got pregnant?”

 

Robert stared into the distance, understanding. “Her baby had black hair.”

 

Ned nodded. “Aye. And blue eyes.”

 

The King stomped back to his chair and sat down. He seemed to still be processing the news he had received. Then he looked up. “And Jon?”

 

With a sigh Ned let himself fall in front of him. “Jon found out. He saw the boy, just as I did. He may have even caught the queen and her brother at it, for all we know.” He swallowed hard. “Varys tells me he’d been poisoned. Tears of Lys, they call it. No man dies of an illness that fast.”

 

“Poison. A woman’s weapon”, Robert whispered.

 

“Aye. A woman’s weapon.”

 

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Ned left his friend to think for himself, watching his reaction closely. He had to avoid Robert’s rage by all costs. They shouldn’t take hasty actions, not now. And an angry Robert didn’t think about doing, he just did, mostly with disastrous consequences.

 

_Just look at what happened to Lyanna. To the Targaryens._

 

Ned expected shouting, raging, calling for his wife’s death. What he didn’t anticipate was his friend breaking the silence after five minutes, his voice calm.

 

“Bring me the boy. I want to meet him.”

 

***

Gendry’s day had started out quite average. He’d gotten up early, gone to work. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’d worked on an armour for one of the goldcloaks that frequented his smithy. Two gold dragons for mending it. A good price.

 

He had worked harder than ever before these past few weeks. To keep his mind off of Arya. Because they could obviously never be together, it was only a dream, a lovely little fantasy of his. Brooding over her wouldn’t make it real.

But while pounding onto steel did require strength and concentration, it also gave him a lot of time to think. And one particular small girl had been impossible to shake from his thoughts, no matter how hard he had tried.

 

Gendry had just been on his way to get some fresh water when he’d noticed two people standing in front of the smithy, seemingly debating wether or not to come in. The smaller of the two figures seemed strangely familiar to him.

 

It had been Arya. Just when everything had gone back to normal, she had reappeared. Without warning, she had barged into his life again. This time together with her father, who had been asking him odd questions.

 

The next two hours he had spent brooding over her again, his muscles burning from how hard he hit the steel.

 

 _Clank_!

 

They had made her wear a dress, it seemed. It suited her, even though he liked the boy-clothes-Arya, the real Arya more.

His Arya.

Images of _his_ Arya flashed through his mind.

 

 _Clank_!

 

Arya by candlelight, laughing with Hot Pie and Lommy. Arya chugging an ale.

 

 _Clank_!

 

Arya yelling at him, calling him stupid. Arya kissing him.

 

 _Clank_!

 

Arya running down the tunnels beneath the city. I know, me too.

 

 _Clank_!

 

Arya leaving. Arya reappearing, beside her father, her face panicked, confused and full of pain.

 

 _Clank_!

 

Surrounded by smoke, covered in soot and sweat, he had furiously hammered the metal. A few times he had almost broken it in his haze. He had found he did not care a bit.

 

Perhaps he should have spent more time thinking about Lord Stark’s questions instead of pining after his daughter. Because, oddly, Arya’s visit to his forge would be only the second weirdest thing to happen that day.

 

“Oi, you!”

 

He kept his eyes trained on the almost finished breastplate and hummed. _What now?_

 

“Lad!”

 

Gendry lifted his gaze to find a group of goldcloaks standing inside the little armoury.

 

“We’re lookin’ for Gendry Waters. That you?”

 

He put down the hammer and wiped his greasy hands on a cloth, not taking his eyes off the soldiers. They weren’t common street patrols, it seemed they were coming straight from the palace. In his years living here he had learned that palace guards didn’t come down to the city often. And if they did, it usually meant bad news.

He gulped.

_They found out. They somehow found out._

He took a deep breath to calm himself.

 

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Did I do something?”

 

“Everything’s fine, lad. You’re coming with us. By order of the king.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is confused.
> 
> That’s it that’s literally the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so exited!! I finally finished my outline (which I changed about 50 times since I started this fic lmao my brain is such a mess) so I actually have a plan that goes beyond the next two chapters!! Yay me! 
> 
> Hope you like this chapter :))

A whisper escaped the king’s lips. “Gods above, Ned.”

 

He got up from his chair to get a closer look at the boy, who seemed very intimidated and confused by the whole situation. Understandable, considering the day he had.

 

Gendry turned to Ned, a thousand questions written on his face. There was fear in his gaze, too. “Uh, Lord Stark? What is going on? Am I in trouble?”

 

Eddard chuckled. “No, lad, you’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t worry.”

 

“Then what exactly am I doing here?” The lad looked at Robert, who was still gaping at him as if he were a white walker, seemingly unsure of what to do. And also a little freaked out by the king’s sudden proximity.

 

Ned cleared his throat. _How do I put this? How much do I tell him_?

 

“I told the King about our meeting today. He decided he wants to...get to know you.”

 

The apprentice frowned, eyes darting between the two men. “Uh, I don’t know if I gave you the wrong impression, m’lord”, he said with a hard voice, taking a step back from the king, “but with all due respect, I really don’t offer any -uhm- _services_. I make quite enough money as an apprentice, thank you very much. Besides, I’m more into girls to be honest.”

 

Lord Stark frowned while Robert let out a bellowing laugh. “What? No!”

 

The king was still laughing. “Calm down boy, we don’t want any services from you. We’re offering _you_ something.” He walked back to his desk and sat down onto his chair with a grunt.

 

Ned gestured to the second chair. “You might want to sit down for this.”

 

Confused, Gendry took the seat, uncomfortably tugging on his tunic. The king shook his head, quietly muttering to himself. “It’s like looking into a mirror.”

 

The lad frowned. “Your grace?”

 

Robert snapped out of his daydream and cleared his throat. “Gendry. That’s your name, right?”

 

“Yes, your grace.”

 

“How old are you, boy?”

 

“Two-and-twenty, your grace.”

 

The king nodded. “Two-and-twenty. Ah yes, that adds up.” He took a deep breath. “The thing is, Gendry, you appear to be my son.”

 

The boy stared at him, not understanding. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“You’re my son, Gendry. A bastard, but mine nonetheless.”

 

Gendry shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. My mother was no one special. Just a common tavern worker, your grace.”

 

“She had yellow hair, didn’t she? And brown eyes?”

 

The boy stayed quiet, frowning. Ned could see his mind working.

 

“You must know the rumours about me, boy. There have been a lot of tavern wenches in my life, I don’t deny it. And twenty-three years ago I visited a tavern in Flea Bottom. It was shortly after my victory over Rhaegar, I think.”

 

The king cleared his throat. “My last hand, Lord Arryn, he found out about you. I don’t know how, but he found you. And anyone with eyes in his head can see that you’re mine. A true Baratheon, black hair and everything. _Gods_ , you look exactly like me. Before I got fat, that is.” He laughed again, seemingly expecting Gendry to join him, but the lad’s frown stayed glued to his face.

 

Brows furrowing at the boy’s reaction, Robert cleared his throat again. “Listen, Gendry. I know this is a lot and I know I haven’t been a real father to you before, but I would like to make up for that. I want you to live here in the Red Keep. I’d like to get to know my son.”

 

Ned raised an eyebrow at his friend. _What is he doing? We didn’t discuss this part._

 

Gendry still hadn’t said anything. The poor boy looked like he needed a drink and something to punch. _Sounds like someone else I know._

 

Then he spoke. “Will I be able to keep working in the forge?”

 

Robert nodded. “Of course. Anything you want. I’ll make a place for you at the castle smithy.”

 

“Thank you, your grace.”

 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. For a moment, nobody said anything. Gendry was still brooding, Robert was eying him closely.

 

Ned decided to put an end to this. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the door. “Come on, lad, let me show you to your quarters.”

 

***

 

More determined than ever in her life, Arya made her way down to her father’s solar. She knew exactly what to say to him, exactly how to say it. She was prepared.

What she didn’t expect was to find his chambers empty.

 

She frowned. _This is strange._

 

Apparently Ned had been talking to the king all afternoon. At least that’s what Jory told her. It seemed to be about something rather important, as the Stark guards had been instructed to keep everyone away from the king’s quarters.

 

On her way there Arya almost ran into her sister, who, elegantly as ever, was floating through the corridor. Sansa and her hadn’t spoken since their fight on the day she had come back, the only acknowledgment of her presence being a huff or the disapproving raising of an eyebrow. But upon seeing her sister so distressed, Sansa seemingly forgot she was mad at her. A white, long hand gripped her arm.

 

“Arya, are you alright?”

 

She tried to shake her hand off. “I’m fine. Let me go.” But Sansa only grabbed her harder.

 

“You don’t look fine.”

 

“I’m brilliant, Sansa! Life’s marvellous, beautiful, magical. Fucking great.” With a furious grunt, she tore her arm out of Sansa’s grip and stomped down the hall. Her sister followed.

 

“What’s going on? Why are you so mad?”

 

“Why do you care? Just -“

 

She froze mid-sentence. Her gaze had landed on her father, coming out of the door to the king’s chambers. But he wasn’t alone. Arya swore her heart stopped for a second as she looked directly into the blue eyes that had been haunting her dreams for weeks. _What is he doing here?_

 

Sansa frowned, following her look. “What happened? Who’s that?”

 

Her sister didn’t answer, keeping her gaze fixed on the young man walking next to her father. The frown he had worn on his face was wiped away upon seeing her, replaced by something that could only be described as relief.

 

“Ah, Arya, Sansa.” Ned smiled. “I’d like to properly introduce you to Gendry Waters.” He gave the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Gendry, these are my daughters.”

 

Sansa looked confused and let her eyes wander over the blacksmith, eying his appearance a little disapprovingly, but gave him a small smile nevertheless. “Pleased to meet you, Gendry.”

 

He nodded, seemingly not knowing what else to do when introduced to highborn ladies.

 

Ned gestured to his younger daughter. “And Arya you know already.”

 

The sentence broke her out of her trance. _He told them?_

 

“What? We don’t know each other”, she started stammering in panic.

 

Her father frowned. “You met at the smithy this morning, remember?”

 

_Oh, yes. That._

 

Arya could have sworn she saw Gendry fight a little grin at her expression. She shot him a warning look.

 

_Shut up, stupid. This isn’t funny._

 

A little annoyed, she turned to speak directly to him. “What are you doing here?”

 

Gendry shrugged. “I guess I...sort of live here now? I didn’t process all of it yet, to be honest.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

He looked at Lord Stark, as if asking for permission. Ned nodded.

 

Then Gendry took a deep breath. “I’m the king’s bastard.”

 

Arya blinked surprised. Of all the things she expected him to say, this wasn’t one of it. She eyed her blacksmith from head to toe. It was hard to find anything of the drunk, useless fat king she had gotten to know in Gendry.

But the eyes, yes, the eyes were unmistakably Baratheon, as was his hair. Yet she found he bared more resemblance to his uncle Renly than to Robert. Besides, his personality couldn’t be more different from his father’s.

 

She nodded slowly. “Yes...I guess I see it.” He gave her a tired smile.

 

Her father chimed in. “Girls, would you mind showing him to the empty chambers in the east wing? I really need to speak to Robert again.”

 

***

“Your grace.” Ned closed the door behind him, then turned to his friend. “Why did you invite him to stay here? Are you trying to drive Cersei mad?” He sat down on the chair, completely exhausted by this day. It had been way too long. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the stress. “I mean, _gods_ , your bastard living at court! And one that looks exactly like you! That is going to feel like a slap in the face for her.”

 

Robert scoffed. “I don’t care about her feelings. She’s letting her bastards live here, being raised as heirs. As _my_ heirs.” He slammed his fist on the table. “She’s making a damned fool of us all, Ned!”

 

“Be careful.I know you’re angry. ” Ned sighed. ”But we can’t let her get suspicious, not before we figure out how to destroy her. Remember, the crown is deeply in debt to her father. And not to forget, Cersei has already murdered to keep her secret, I doubt she’d hesitate to kill us, too.”

 

“That’s exactly why nobody will say a thing about Gendry’s identity. Not you, not your guards, not even he himself. He’ll work in the smithy and live in your part of the castle, away from Cersei’s eyes.”

 

“Do you really believe she won’t find out about this? Who says she doesn’t already know?”

 

“We will make sure of it!“

 

“Why are you insisting on keeping him here? The boy would be safer off in Flea Bottom -“

 

“All my fucking heirs are gone, Ned!” The king had gotten up from his chair, towering over Eddard, his face red from anger. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Look, I’m not the youngest man, nor the healthiest. I need someone to follow me on the throne and I’ll be damned if I let that whore put her bastard on it. The boy will stay here, get used to the court, be educated in everything he needs to know. And then, when we get rid of the Lannister’s, I’ll legitimate him.”

 

Ned’s mouth stood open. “Robert, this is madness, you can’t possibly expect -“

 

“I’m still the king, aren’t I? This is what I decided. Now get out.”

 

***

 

They stopped at the end of the hallway. Arya gestured to a small room. “This is your chamber, I guess. We’re in my family’s tower, so our rooms are just around the corner if you need anything.”

 

Gendry smiled. “Thank you. So...I’ll see you around?”

 

She grinned back. “Sure. I’m not allowed to leave the castle, anyways.” _You know why._

 

There was so much more she wanted to say. That she loved him. That she’d find a way for them to be together. How much she’d missed him. His smile, his laugh, his teasing, everything.

 

But all she could do was look into his eyes, get lost in them again, and let the silence speak for itself.

 

Long nails dug into her arm. _Oh, shit._ She’d almost forgotten her sister was here, too. Arya cleared her throat. “Right. Good night, Gendy. Welcome to the Red Keep.”

 

Gendry nodded to them both. “Good night, m’lady.”

 

A fake smile plastered on her face, Sansa dragged her away, her grip on Arya’s arm getting tighter. As soon as they heard Gendry’s door close, she swirled around to face her sister.

 

“Alright, what in the seven hells was that?”

 

 _It’s better to play dumb_. Arya put on her most innocent face. “What was what?”

 

“The way you looked at him! The way you talked! You know each other, don’t you?”

 

“I have no idea what you mean.”

 

“Oh, stop it, Arya”, she hissed, “you and I both know exactly what I mean. I’ve never seen you behave like that. Where do you know him from?”

 

“I told you, I met him today at the smithy with father. Where else would I know him from?”

 

Sansa huffed. “I don’t know, you tell me. But you’re obviously lying.”

 

“Am not!”

 

“Are, too!”

 

Furious, the sisters stared at each other, neither one giving in. Then, with an angry snort, Sansa flipped her hair and stomped to her room. Arya knew, she wouldn’t be speaking to her the next week. Again.

 

But, honestly, she could live with that. As long as Gendry was here, she could endure everything, even her sister’s wrath.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I abandon my fic for three other ideas I have only to write this chapter in a haze at midnight?
> 
> Yes, that‘s exactly what happened. Sorry for the wait, my mind is a mess.
> 
> Hope you like it ;))

Arya took a deep breath and smiled. Scrambled eggs had never smelled so good.

Like happiness and new opportunities. Like life.

And she was not about to let life pass her by,

 

With more appetite than she had in weeks, Arya dug into her food and almost let out a moan at how good it was. Actually, everything tasted better since yesterday. And did the colours look brighter somehow?

 

Her mother chuckled. “I’m glad to see you eating again, sweetling.”

 

Arya smiled back at her, happily chewing her breakfast. It was a truly honest smile, one she hadn’t given anyone in weeks. Somehow she wasn’t even mad about the whole marriage plan anymore. It was just a small hurdle she would eventually overcome, a tiny glitch she had to fix. Nothing impossible. Nothing important, at least not as important as Gendry being in the castle.

 

It was as if her father could read her thoughts.

 

“So”, he started, taking a sip out of his cup, “I feel like I owe you an explanation for yesterday. You see, the reason I went to see Gendry in the first place was that I got a tip from someone. It doesn’t matter, who.” He cleared his throat.

 

“And as soon as I saw him, I just knew he had to be Robert’s son. They practically look identical. Robert decided to get to know him better, maybe even legitimise him when the time comes.”

 

Arya almost choked. _Gendry? A lord?_ Quickly, she tried to play it off as a cough and took another bite.

 

Sansa let out a gasp. “Legitimise him?”

 

“Yes, legitimise him as his son. Introduce him to the court. That’s why he brought him here to live in the castle. But the important thing is that nobody can know about him, at least not for the time being. Especially Cersei can’t find out.”

 

Sansa frowned. “Why can’t we let the queen know?”

 

 

“Because, darling”, her mother answered, “it is a huge affront to his wife, bringing his bastard here.” She threw her husband a quick glance, who was focusing on his food and avoiding her gaze. “If Cersei finds out about Gendry, she will be furious. And if someone tells her about Robert’s plans, she’ll feel threatened and might even do him harm.”

 

“She would do that?”

 

Arya snorted. “Lannister’s are all snakes. They are capable of anything.”

 

Her father nodded. “I’m afraid your sister has a point. There are some things that happened which led me to believe that Cersei definitely is someone to be afraid of. We have to be cautious what we say to her or anyone who receives her orders. You don’t want to provoke the Lannister’s wrath. They take their house words very seriously.”

 

Frowning, Sansa nodded and dropped her gaze to the food on her plate. She was deep in thought, though, as she only pecked at it for the rest of the meal.

 

Arya’s thoughts had already wandered off somewhere else. To a green hill somewhere, full of flowers, with a lot of sun. And Gendry by her side.

The image didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

 

***

A few days later she saw the whole matter in a different light. It had been five times she’d seen Gendry since he arrived, fI’ve he’d made up an excuse to leave and she’d been left standing in the hallway wondering what the hells was going on.

 

Arya Stark wasn’t good at being patient. She had never been, not even as a little girl.

Countless times had Septa Mordane scolded her because she just couldn’t sit still, couldn’t wait anymore to see the guests they’d been waiting for. Her father almost went mad from all the nagging when they once went to visit Jon at the wall. _Are we there yet? How much longer?_ , she would ask every five minutes.

 

This was even worse.

After she’d first seen him, she’d been up all night, imagining all the things she and Gendry would do now that he lived in the Keep. The things they’s talk about, hidden tunnels they would find together. Kisses they would steal.

But her euphoria from earlier was soon replaced with frustration. Even though he practically lived next to her, she barely even saw Gendry at all the next days. It seemed Robert had gotten him work at the castle forge, most likely to keep him occupied and hide him from Cersei’s spies. And it seemed he had to head off to the forge every time she wanted to speak to him.

 

 _Just be patient, it’ll happen_ , she kept telling herself.

 

It didn’t, though. If Arya did manage to talk to him, there was usually someone else with them, making it impossible for her to have a proper conversation or even arrange a meeting. And not to mention the horrible scowl he wore as of lately that made his face seem like a grumpy mask, hiding his emotions. It drove her absolutely mad.

 

But her luck was about to change.

 

It was a little while after breakfast when she ran into her blacksmith in the hallway. Arya usually never took this route to get to the kitchens, but as soon as she’d caught a glimpse of Joffrey coming down the same hall she wanted to take, she had to make a quick getaway. And promptly bumped into just the person she yearned to speak to the most.

And this time he was alone. _Finally_.

 

Gendry was wearing a new tunic and breeches. Nothing extravagant, nothing too expensive, but still noticeably nicer than the ones he had before. He seemed to be uncomfortable in it though, constantly tugging on his sleeves. Upon seeing her, he stopped and gave her a crooked smile.

 

“Hey.”

 

She couldn’t help but smile back. That was just the effect he had on her. “Hey. Nice clothes. Clean for a change.”

 

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

 

For a second, none of them knew what to say.

So much had changed since their last kiss. She’d agreed to marry someone. He’d found out he was the son of a king. It should be so easy for them to be together, now that they were living that close to each other. But why weren’t they, then? Why hadn’t they talked in weeks?

She used to be able to read his expression within seconds, but now it felt like he had a closed off. Not to mention he’d been running away from her the past days.

She looked at her feet, then spoke quickly, not wanting him to flee again. “So, uhm, how do you like it here?” Small talk. Another thing she wasn’t great at.

 

Gendry seemed glad she broke the silence, though. He smiled. “It’s nice. Almost too nice, to be honest. Haven’t gotten used to all of this yet. I feel like I’m in a dream and should wake up any second in my scratchy little bed in Flea Bottom.”

 

Arya snorted. “I can tell you for a fact that it wasn’t that bad. I have slept there, remember?”

 

“Right.” His smile faded at that and Arya knew exactly why. It was the thing that stood between them since the day she’d been captured by the hound. Probably the reason he’d been avoiding her.

 

_The fact that we can’t be together._

 

Gendry let his gaze drop to the floor, searching for the right words.

 

Arya had them. “Gendry, I don’t give a shit. About all of it. They can stick their opinions up their arses for all I care.”

 

He let out a snort. “I doubt your mother sees it that way.”

 

She frowned. “What did I just say? I don’t care what she thinks. But mother will like you, you’ll see. My father will, too. Just give it time.”

 

Gendry scoffed. “Well, they might like and accept me as Robert’s son, but a possible match for their daughter? That’s a whole other thing.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “They’re never going to let us be together and you know it.”

 

 _Why won’t he listen to me_? Arya rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not their decision!”

 

“What would they even say if they found out you want to be with a poor, bastard blacksmith?”

 

“If they don’t accept you, they will no longer be my family!”

 

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do? Run away again?”

 

Her jaw clenched and she swallowed. _That was uncalled for._

Furiously, she glared into his blue eyes which were only inches away from her face now. Somehow, while talking, they had moved closer to each other. She hadn’t even noticed. Gendry was breathing heavily, holding her stare with an intensity she had never seen before. But there was something else in his glare. _He’s doing this on purpose_ , she realised. He was doing it to drive her away. Arya took another step, holding their eye contact, needing him to understand this.

 

“I don’t _want_ to. I’m not running away anymore, Gendry.”

 

Stormy eyes met hers and she could read him like an open book. She could see his anger, his sadness, his confusion. And his feelings for her.

 

He seemed to be fighting within himself. “Arya, I -“

 

Before he could say anything more, Arya grabbed the front of his new tunic and pulled him down to her, crashing her lips onto his. She grinned at the fact that it didn’t even take a second for Gendry to throw all his arguments into the wind and start kissing her back with a passion that took her breath away.

 

Being enveloped in his arms again felt safe, like coming home, but also strangely different.

Their kisses had never been like this. They had been passionate before, yes, intoxicating maybe, but never had they been so...hungry. Fierce. Whereas Gendry had been gentle with her before, his lips were now claiming her mouth roughly, his hands getting tangled in her hair. Her hands found their way into his hair, too, tugging at it harshly, while Gendry gripped her waist maybe a bit harder than needed, probably leaving bruises.

Not that she was complaining, though.

 

She felt like she was floating, completely hypnotised by the way he felt. Tasted. The way he kissed her. The way he backed her against the wall, a situation in which she found herself fairly often with him. The way his calloused hands dropped lower, now gripping her arse, causing her to gasp softly and pull him even closer.

Out of an instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting herself be picked up into his strong arms and lacing her hands around his neck. She even let herself swoon over the fact that he only needed one arm to hold her up. This new position, she found very quickly, helped with their height difference. And opened up a lot of new possibilities, like his lips leaving her mouth, kissing behind her ear, down her neck and collarbone. A small moan escaped her, causing him to chuckle in her ear.

“We should- we probably shouldn’t be doing this here”, she panted, registering their very public location somewhere in the back of her mind. Someone could walk in on them any second and as much as she didn’t care about the opinion of others, she rather wouldn’t want her parents finding out about them like this. Gendry hummed, still kissing her, gently nipping at her ear. She let out another soft moan. “Oh.”

 

_Well, maybe just a little bit longer._

 

But they didn’t get any more time. At that moment they could hear heavy steps down the corridor, it was most likely only moments before someone would come around the corner. Gendry cursed and quickly let her down, bringing a proper distance between them. Heavily breathing, they looked at each other.

 

Gendry scratched the back of his neck. “You should uhm probably...do something with your hair. Looks like an idiot buried his hands in it and then crashed you against a wall.“

 

She chuckled and tried to straighten it out as much as she could. Just in time, because Jory, one of her father’s guards turned around the corner. He nodded at them.

 

“M’lady Arya, how nice to see you. And Ser...?”

 

“Gendry. Just Gendry.”

 

An uncomfortable silence settled across the room. Gendry cleared his throat and was looking everywhere except Arya, probably trying to not seem suspicious. Arya was chewing on her lip again.

Jory eyed both of them and looked like he was fighting a grin. He nodded, then moved to leave.

 

“Uh, just a note, m’lady”, he said, turning around again and lowering his voice, “you missed a few.”

 

Her eyes widened in horror and she looked down her tunic, noticing the top buttons were open. “Oh, _fuck_!” _This is bad. Very bad._ And how didn’t she notice Gendry unbuttoning it? When had that even happened?

 

“Nice to meet you, _just_ Gendry.” Chuckling, Jory passed the mortified couple and made his way through the corridor.

 

***

“Lord Stark.” Ned turned around and was surprised to find Cersei Lannister, the queen of the seven kingdoms walking towards him. Her hair was made in the typical braided crown on her head which she’d made popular a few years ago and her posture was as elegant as the robe she wore. Everything about her seemed regal and authorative, from the way she spoke to the way she moved. But Ned had never cared about appearances before, and since he found out what the queen had been doing (or more specifically who she’d been doing it with), he might have lost all remaining respect for her or her family. He shook internally. The image of the two siblings together was truly horrible.

 

The Hand of the King bowed anyway. “Your grace.”

No matter how much she disgusted him, he had to keep up the facade. For Robert’s sake and for his family’s. This was not the time for rash decisions or for disrespecting the Lannisters.

 

Cersei smiled and nodded her head into the direction of the gardens. “Walk with me.”

 

He nodded and followed her into the sunny courtyard, the bad feeling in his stomach getting worse. This was not good. Had she somehow found out that he knew? Had she found out about Gendry?

 

The queen’s red robe flowed around her while they walked past a small fountain. Now that he thought about it, she only ever seemed to wear her house colours, not those of her husband.

 _Well, she_ does _keep close to her family._

 

“How is the capital treating you, my lord?” She gave him a sweet smile which he didn’t believe for a second.

 

“I guess it’s alright. I miss the fresh northern winds, though”, he chuckled, trying to ease some of the tension, “no one can possibly be expected to work in this bloody heat.”

 

She smiled again. “Yes, it is indeed very warm here compared to the North. But your family seems to be doing rather well, aren’t they?”

 

“Aye, especially my Sansa loves it here.”

 

“I can imagine. She fits right in here in the South, it would be a shame to hide such beauty up in the snow. Someday, when she and Joffrey marry, Sansa will make a good queen, I’m sure of it.”

 

 _There is absolutely no way I’ll let my daughter marry your bastard_.

 

Ned smiled back. “I hope so. I just want my kids to be happy, and nothing would make her happier than marrying your son.”

 

Cersei eyed him closely, her gaze getting hard while her smile stayed glued onto her face. It didn’t reach her eyes anymore, though. “Yes, we all want our kids to be safe and happy, don’t we? I know I’d do anything to protect mine. Surely you would, too.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, Lord Stark, you’re plotting something else, aren’t you? Besides Sansa’s marriage to Joffrey.”

 

He panicked inside. _She knows. Seven fucking hells, she knows. What are we going to do now?_ Ned frowned and feigned ignorance, despite his heart pounding in his chest. “What are you talking about, your grace?”

 

For a second the green Lannister eyes kept scanning him thoroughly, then her smile got warmer again. “I’m hinting at an event I’m planning. It’s a ball in honour of your appointment as Hand. I’m a moon late, I know, but such am evening takes a lot of time to organise, as you can imagine, and I wanted to keep it as much of a surprise as I could. And then yesterday it has reached my ears that you plan on marrying another one of your daughters? The younger one, what was her name?”

 

“Arya.”

 

“Arya, that’s right. I heard you’re looking at possible matches. I’m sure there’s already a lot of offers for such a...beautiful and gifted young woman, despite the recent -let’s call them _complications_.” Cersei sighed. “Still, I thought that this ball might be a good opportunity for her to meet some of the eligible Lords out there in person. What do you say? Would Arya like to come? I know she usually doesn’t attend any of the activities at court.”

 

 _She would definitely hate that._ But it was better than an open war with the Lannisters, which he was sure this would lead to if Cersei actually found out about the things he was planning with Robert.

 

Lord Stark nodded. “That is a very generous offer, your grace, thank you. I’m sure she’d love to attend the ball.”

 

The queen chuckled and guided him back out of the small garden.“I’m glad. Hopefully she’ll find someone agreeable she likes there.”

 

Ned thanked her again and made his way into the castle, feeling his guts tight painfully.

 

Something was wrong, he could feel it.

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts about this!


End file.
